


Long May We Reign

by smolengineer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, Arranged Marriage, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Dragons, Drama & Romance, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Intrigue, Jonaerys, Jonerys, King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Kink Exploration, Kissing, Light BDSM, Love, Marriage, Miscarriage, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Dynamics, Pregnancy, R Plus L Equals J, Relationship Problems, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Rule as Equals, Sex, Smut, War, Wedding, courting, direwolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 03:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15452070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolengineer/pseuds/smolengineer
Summary: The stubborn King in the North won't bend the knee, so Daenerys and Tyrion come up with an alternate plan- marriage.This starts off in the middle of Season 7, episode 4, the evening after Dany has returned from the battle over Blackwater Rush/Loot Train, and then takes a pretty hard turn from where the show went with the story. I don't intend this to be an expectation of season 8, it's a representation of how I thought the story should have gone. Once I get out of season 7 territory, anything that happens in season 8 that correlates with this fic is purely coincidental.





	1. A Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things to keep in mind about this since from the get go it's a little AU:
> 
> -Dany did not take Daario as a lover. Hizdar died before their marriage. She has not had a man in her bed since Drogo, and is wary of Miri Maz Durr’s curse, believing it to be true but hoping that it isn’t.  
> -Since learning that Jon has been crowned King in the North, Tyrion has suggested on several occasions to Dany that Jon is her best prospect for a marriage alliance.  
> -Jon and Dany have had nightly dinners since the cave meeting- a suggestion from Tyrion to Dany as a way to further encourage an amicable relationship and strengthen their fragile alliance. She reluctantly agreed and the two have since warmed up to one another. At some point I may write out a couple of these dinners.  
> -Tyrion is prepping to go to KL to meet Jamie and is leaving in the morning following the dinner in the first part of this.
> 
> Also... please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes. This is un-beta-ed and I've been writing this for well over 12 hours, including missing out on sleep because the muse was strong tonight.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/46134188962/in/dateposted-public/)

“You’re drinking more than usual this evening, your grace,” Jon observed from across the small table before taking a sip from his own cup.

Daenerys arched a brow at his statement, then self-consciously put her wine cup down. “And if I am?” she asked, her tone curious as to why it would matter how much she drank. She’d just won a great victory, she deserved to celebrate, even if it was only a few extra cups of wine over dinner with Jon Snow.

The man smiled at her question, the action making Daenerys’ heart flutter a little. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Just stating a fact”, was his cryptic response as he tore into a heel of bread. “Your victory over the Blackwater Rush today have anything to do with it?”

“It would.” She smiled back, nibbling on her own bread. She debated bringing up her other reason for drinking a little more wine than usual two cups, knowing it was something she inevitably had to ask of him but also knew it could potentially irreparably damage the fragile friendship they had begun to build via their nightly suppers. So she’d taken to drinking her sweet arbor gold in greater excess than normal in the hope that she’d gain some courage to do what needed to be done.

Tyrion had apparently noticed their growing friendship, and pointed out that regardless if this half-cocked plan for an armistice worked and they managed to defeat this Night King that Jon Snow believed in, the northern lords were a prickly lot, and not liable to be happy to watch their king bend the knee and surrender their independence to her. Would it not, then, be smarter to make Jon Snow not only the king in the north but king of the seven kingdoms as well? Bring the north into the fold by marrying their king.

Daenerys couldn’t deny his logic, and as frustrated with the brooding man as she had been upon their first meeting, she had to admit he was growing on her. It also helped that he was the most handsome man she’d ever come across, his deep northern burr of an accent much more pronounced than Ser Jorah’s, something about the way his full lips moved around his words made her nearly shudder in pleasure every time he spoke.

Finally deciding to just get it over with she licked her lips and sighed, setting down her nearly untouched piece of bread then caught his gaze. “I also…. Find myself a bit nervous, which is a new feeling for me, if I am being honest.”

“Am I that intimidating?” Jon teased, his lips pulled up into a slight smirk.

“Not at all.” Daenerys countered with a smirk of her own. She found she really like it when he smiled, especially when it was from his own humor. Something about the small gesture that he kept locked away seemed amazingly intimate, and she could not shake how handsome he was when his eyes lit up in mirth.

“You and I have negotiated a rather fragile alliance based on Cersei agreeing to an armistice.” She began, her face smoothing to a serious expression, her fingers idly toying with the rim of her cup. “And while I believe you when you say you will march your armies south to help me take my rightful place on the throne, it still leaves us in a rather peculiar spot.” Daenerys eyed him as she spoke, taking in every minor twitch and expression he let slip past his stoic exterior… Which wasn't much.

“You mean how I won't bend the knee and you think the North belongs to you regardless.” the king in the north pointed out rather bluntly as he tossed his bread onto his plate.

She winced slightly, looking down at her glass for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I apologize for how I approached my rule here in Westeros. I've had those close to me call me a conqueror, like my ancestor, Aegon. Thinking I could come to Westeros and expect all kingdoms to bend the knee without proving myself different from all the shit kings and queens before me was stupid.” she paused, almost amused by the surprised look on Jon’s face- one that morphed into a small smile.

“Your steadfastness to not bend the knee has been extremely frustrating, yet eye-opening. I've scoffed at how my brother Viserys believed that people cried out for their true leader and sewed dragon banners in secret, yet I come here giving ultimatums- bend the knee or die. You've made me realize it cannot be as black and white as that.”

Jon’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you saying?”

Daenerys cleared her throat, delaying a few seconds for what she was about to say. “I am saying that … we have an alliance out of a mutual understanding that you need my help just as much as I need yours, however, we haven’t really spoken about what comes after that, nor have we spoken of terms to ensure we both keep our word.”

“I keep my word,” Jon replied, his voice barely above a whisper, his tone almost a threat. He was angry.

“I don’t doubt that, Jon.” She said quietly, placing her hand over his on the table and using only his name in hopes of placating him. Daenerys truly believed that Jon always kept his word- it was the sort of man Ned Stark was, according to Tyrion and Varys, and Jon was definitely his father’s son when it came to being honorable it seemed. “What I am doubting, is your people’s ambition to march south and help me reclaim my throne after they’ve fought against the dead. I understand the north has been the hardest hit kingdom due to all the recent wars, and we have two yet to come. You said your people would never accept a southern ruler after all they’ve been through, and I suspect they would have just as hard a time accepting a Targaryen on top of it all. So … if the people of the north are to maintain their independence, what incentive do they have to leave their families yet again, in order to fight and die for a Targaryen, whose house they hate, and will not be their ruler by the end of it all?”

Jon opened his mouth to speak then promptly closed it, the gears of thought very obviously turning in his head. After a few moments of silence, he sighed in resignation. “What is your plan then?”

“What if…” she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “What if, the north became one with the other six kingdoms again, but they didn’t have to bend the knee to me?”

She was met with another frown, the crease in his eyebrows back. “Why is it that everyone in the south always dances around the point they’re trying to make?” He asked, irritation and confusion evident in his tone. “The only way the north would be included in the seven kingdoms and not bend the knee to you is if … I ... became ... king.” His face fell as he realized what she was asking. “You mean to make me king of the seven kingdoms? And what of you?”

“I would rule by your side. Equally, as your queen.”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, Daenerys would have laughed at the dumbfounded look on Jon’s face. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

Daenerys nodded. “I thought if you were to agree to the proposal, that we wait to announce any sort of engagement or hold any ceremony until after the parlay and we travel to Winterfell.” She added, a serious expression on her face, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Lord Tyrion and I are worried that to do so prior to meeting your lords and informing them of my intentions would have them convinced I seduced you into being my consort.”

Jon laughed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “They uh… they’ve already warned me to beware your charms. Several lords were worried I’d leave and not come home because you’d kill me on the spot or seduce me into submission. It’s good to see you want to prove them wrong.”

Daenerys laughed at that, picking up her cup and taking a sip before gently setting it back down. “I'm aware of my beauty as well as what people think I might do with it. The term ‘foreign whore' was muttered more than once during my time in Essos.” she paused, letting Jon recover from the shock of hearing her say such a dirty word. She couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction again. “It is an unfortunate reality of my station. And should you accept this proposal, you will probably have to get used to people whispering behind your back that this foreign whore did actually seduce you.”

“But you haven't…”

“I know I haven't. People will say it all the same. Others will wonder why a queen married a bastard. And truthfully, I don't care what your name is… you seem decent enough to me, and honestly, you are the best match politically.” Daenerys replied, toying with the rim of her cup again. “It certainly helps that you're ridiculously handsome and a little rough around the edges. I like that.”

She grinned and watched his entire face turn red, from the tip of his nose to the tops of his ears. Gods, he was beautiful.

“I can't seriously be the first person to have told you that?” she asked incredulously when he didn't answer.

“I… well no.” Jon huffed, chugging down a good bit of wine. “I've been called ‘pretty’ almost all my life. Hearing it come from you is… something else.”

Daenerys arched a brow in curiosity, her lips breaking into a sly smile. “Is it?”

“Aye,” Jon replied, giving her a wry smile. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe you, your grace. But since I’m no poet, that word will have to do. To hear you say you find me as desirable as I find you…. Seven hells…” He trailed off, gulping down the rest of his wine.

“Dany.” She spoke up, saving him from any further humiliation even as her own cheeks grew hot. If he agreed to the proposal it was good to know they found each other attractive. “You can call me Dany. At least in private… and so long as I may call you Jon.”

His face only turned even redder as she suggested they call one another by name and not title, and he merely nodded as he poured himself more wine offering her some as well. Dany glanced into her cup and shook her head- it was still half full, and her head was fuzzy enough as it was.

“I suppose you'll want to speak with Ser Davos about the proposal. Perhaps even send a raven home to consult your lords?” she asked, slipping into her diplomatic self to avoid further embarrassment on both their parts.

“Aye.” Jon agreed, clearing his throat. “It’s probably best we have both Ser Davos and Lord Tyrion here for the finer negotiation bits. Though, what’s the use of us being a king and queen if we can’t make our own decisions from time to time?” He asked, a small smirk playing about his lips. “Consider this my informal acceptance, Dany. So long as we rule equally, my stubborn lords can’t complain too much. And if they do, I’ll put them in their place.”

Daenerys felt a wide smile break out on her face, happiness literally bubbling through her in a way she hadn’t truly felt since she was a child in Braavos. It surprised her, that happiness. She had expected to come to Westeros and marry some lord in order to secure more troops, offering herself up like a piece of meat in order to ensure she got her throne. She expected to have to fight said lord to make him understand he was King Consort, and that she held the true power. She never expected to have to fight someone else’s war first, or happily offer herself up to a man in order to secure their alliance, nor had she expected to be somewhat eager to share the throne, but that was because she had never met a man like Jon Snow.

“A toast, then.” She suggested, lifting her cup toward him. “Here’s to strong military alliances secured by marriage. Long may we reign.”

“Long may we reign.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Daenerys laid awake for a long time, giddy as a maiden fawning over a gallant knight in the songs.

After their toast, she and Jon began exchanging stories of their childhoods, the good ones anyway. It seemed for as hard as they both had it as children, they were both able to find a great deal of joy in odd places. She relished learning what helped shape Jon into the man he was, especially now that he was to be her husband and king. It wasn’t long before she was looking forward to their wedding night, a prospect that made her laugh in irony, as she hadn’t been nearly as excited about having to bed her first husband.

But as the years passed after Drogo’s death, she couldn’t bring herself to take on a lover, focusing on ruling in Mereen and preparing the cities within the newly named Bay of Dragons for her inevitable departure for Westeros. But those years were long and lonely, and that part of her looked forward to having a man hold her and love her once more. Especially because that man was comely with raven black curls her fingers itched to comb through and full luscious lips that begged to be kissed and bitten.

Eventually, the fire died down to coals and their wine ran out, and Daenerys began to excuse herself to retire for the night, the hour much later than was normal for her to go to bed, and he asked to escort her to her chambers. The action was one she would have questioned before, but now it filled her with excitement, her heart pounding and mind wandering, hoping he might invite himself in for a nightcap and it leading to much more. She shook her head as they walked arm and arm down the hall to her rooms, chiding herself for such lewd thoughts and reminding herself to not drink so much in the future.

He didn’t invite himself inside, much to her disappointment. He did, however, take her hand in his and gently kissed it, his eyes smoldering over her knuckles and his lips ghosted over her skin as he whispered “Goodnight, Dany.” She felt her pulse quicken and she couldn’t help the parting of her lips and the soft sigh that escaped. He had simply smirked and left before she could come to her senses and jump him in the hallway, all queenly manners be damned.

The gesture left her hot and bothered in all the best ways, and she snuggled under her heavy quilt, looking forward to spending more time with her somber Northman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Missandei woke her at daybreak, offering her a warm roll slathered in butter and a sweet peppermint tea for her slight hangover. Daenerys nibbled at the roll and sipped at the tea gingerly as Missandei helped her prepare for the day, dressing in her suede leggings that clung to her like a second skin and boots, along with a rather short tunic and a leather overcoat, her hair braided more simply than normal. She was to go see Ser Davos and Tyrion off and planned to go riding afterward. Such activities didn’t call for her normal queenly garb.

“Please have Qhono return weapons to King Jon and his men,” she said to Missandei, the woman raising an eyebrow in knowing interest. Dany smiled sheepishly, her cheeks growing warm. “He said yes.”

“Congratulations, your grace,” Missandei replied, positively beaming. “I’m assuming this is on a need to know basis at the moment?”

“Yes. Until we get the details worked out and I am able to introduce myself to the Northern lords… Jon and I thought it best to wait.”

“It’s Jon, now?” her friend teased.

Daenerys felt her cheeks growing warmer, and she was tempted to throw the rest of her roll at her. “Nothing has happened. He only just agreed last night. I have a feeling though… he will want to wait until the night of the wedding. Something tells me that damnable honor of his will make us wait.”

“As you say.” Missandei laughed. “I will ensure his grace and his men have his weapons. Have a good day riding, your grace. I’ll see you at the noon meal.”

An hour later she made her way down to the beach and met with Jon, who looked much more comfortable with his sword now secured upon his hip, to see Tyrion and Ser Davos off. He eyed her unusual outfit speculatively, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly in a smile before his features returned to their normal stoicism. With an internal sigh in frustration, she turned to her Hand.

“Well, my queen, I’m off. Don’t do anything rash while I’m gone, and I’ll do my best to return with my head still attached to my shoulders.” Tyrion quipped, bowing slightly to both herself and Jon.

“Be sure that you both do return, whether Cersei agrees to meet with us or not,” Daenerys advised as the odd pair climbed into the rowboat. “King Jon and I have a proposal to discuss with you both.”

Tyrion’s eyes went wide and Ser Davos smiled at the pair, then nodded to Jon. “So you were tellin’ the truth. Good on ya lad, I’ll do my best to get this one back so we can work out the particulars.” The kind older man said, taking a seat.

“Look! She finally takes my advice!” Tyrion laughed, taking a seat as well. “Thank the gods at least something I’ve suggested seems to have sunk in! I’m sure that we’ll be able to work something out. If the two of you want to work on it yourselves and save us the trouble…”

“What use do we have of you as advisors if we make the decisions all on our own?” Jon pointed out, the ghost of a smile back on his lips. Everyone chuckled at his remark.

“Yes, then perhaps don’t speak of it for a day and a night. It’s not as if Davos and I will be in your marriage bed..” Tyrion smirked and waved, Ser Davos laughing as the boat was pushed into the surf by a mixed team of Northmen and Dothraki.

Daenerys spared a glance at Jon who was beet red, his expression glowering after their advisors in the quickly shrinking rowboat. She giggled, catching his attention, then did her best to straighten her features and failing miserably.

“It’s not funny.” Jon huffed, shuffling his feet awkwardly, now watching his men and hers amble toward the cave to mine. “I’d rather not have anyone mention our… that.”

Daenerys tried to keep a straight face at how uncomfortable he was, but it was like watching a boy who’d been caught sneaking sweets before dinner. She couldn’t help the small chuckles that escaped her lips.

“You’re not… a virgin, are you Jon Snow?”

“No, I’m not a virgin.” He almost snapped back, his face even redder than before. “I just… don’t like to talk about it.”

“Well, seeing as we’re to be married, it is something that we should discuss.” She pointed out, turning to head back toward the castle. “Perhaps tonight, at supper, when we’re alone, we can speak more on the subject. I’m headed to the stables to go riding. Would you care to join me? Or are you going to be mining more dragonglass?”

“Actually, I’ve got something to show you, if you don’t mind.” He replied, a hand extending in an offer to take hers. “It’s in the dragonglass cave.”

She arched an eyebrow in interest and took his hand, allowing him to pull her arm through his. It was a bit unusual for her, to be treated as he treated her, but she wouldn’t complain. She quite liked how it felt to have him leading her on his arm, and how she could catch a waft of his scent every so often- pine, and woods, and musk. She idly wondered if this is how she would have been treated by a marriage prospect had she grown up a princess in the Red Keep, and not on the run.

As they entered the cave they had to part, Jon taking a torch and leading the way. It was different this time, winding past the alcove that housed the drawings, past the main area where men worked to diligently remove the fragile obsidian from the harder rock, so far back that heat began to radiate from the rocks and she could tell Jon was becoming a little uncomfortable. To her, though, the heat was comforting. It almost called to her in a way; she felt at home.

The narrow passage between the rocks suddenly opened up to a large cavern, the floor gently sloping down toward a large pool of water that stretched out to touch all the walls, save for a ledge jutting out from where they stood. On the ledge looked to be a small trunk attached to a raft. Daenerys stepped to the water's edge to get a better look at the items on the ledge, but it was a good fifty yards from where she stood, and difficult to completely make out in the dancing light of the torch.

“We’ve tried to get it.” Jon suddenly said, his quiet voice still echoing around the chamber. “But it would take too long to build a proper boat, and none of us can swim. Well, I can a bit, but it gets pretty deep, and I’m not confident enough in my abilities as a swimmer to get across and back without losing it or going under.”

Daenerys turned to him, excited. “I can swim. I can get it!” She exclaimed, pulling off her jacket and sitting on the floor to pull off her boots.

“You’re going to go get it? Now?”

“Why not?” She asked, standing back up, her hands grabbing the bottom of her tunic to pull it off, but Jon’s hand over hers stopped her.

“You’re really going to undress in front of me?” he asked, his voice nearly a growl. A small part of her wanted to back away, as she would have all those years ago when she was a scared girl living under Viserys’ thumb. The dragon in her roared at the challenge.

“Why shouldn’t I undress in front of you?” She countered, relaxing her grip slightly so that he would calm down. Right now was not the time to flare up an argument for the sake of it. “You said you’re not a virgin, so anything I’ve got beneath my clothes shouldn’t surprise you, and I’m to be your wife. You’re going to see it anyway.”

Jon frowned, not able to immediately counter her argument. “I know all that. It just… would mean a lot to me if the first time I saw you… the first time I had you… was as husband and wife. You’re already tempting enough as it is in those pants. I want you, Dany. Gods, do I want you. But I know how cruel this world is to bastards, and I won’t put one in you. I don’t want our children to have that hanging over their heads. So please, don’t make that temptation worse for me.” He pleaded.

Dany’s gaze softened, her heart breaking slightly at how much the thought of bringing another bastard into the world tormented him. If she thought it would bring him any comfort she would reveal her own secret to him- her barrenness- but she couldn’t. Not right now. So instead she nodded, then tilted her chin toward the entrance to the cavern. “Turn around, then. And hold the torch up high. I'll get it as quick as I can and redress, then we can take it out into the sun and examine it properly.”

He released her with a nod and turned his back to her, his shoulders visibly relaxing. When she was sure he wasn’t looking, she quickly shed the rest of her clothes and stepped into the water, surprised at how hot it is.

“You swam in this, Jon?” She asked, feeling the dropoff and easily tread water, testing her strength. It had been years since she swam, but she had gotten considerably stronger since then. “I’m surprised your cold, northern blood could stand the heat.”

“There are hot springs in the godswood at Winterfell.” He answered as she swam across the pool. “This isn’t all that much warmer than there, I think. Although my men said it felt hotter than boiling water. Some said even if they could swim, they wouldn’t risk getting scalded.”

She chuckled at that. The water felt as hot as she liked her baths, which likely would scald the average person. It seemed Jon Snow definitely had some Valyrian blood within him if he could stand the heat. It would make sense as to why Drogon allowed him to pet him.

She put her musings aside as she reached the ledge and pulled herself onto it to sit right next to the trunk. She guessed it was about two feet tall and two feet wide, and about just as deep, and it sat upon a small wooden boat of sorts, carved out of a single piece of wood. She easily slid it into the water, glad that it was floating alright, and gently eased herself back in, guiding the trunk in front of her. When she reached the other side, she got out and pulled it up onto the bank and used her smallclothes to dry off, then pulled the rest of her clothes on, opting to leave the wet garment off.

“You can turn around now.” Daenerys mused, having seen Jon tense as she climbed out of the water. She had to give him credit, for as tense as he was, he never once peeked. He turned and handed her the torch, then picked up the trunk, grunting a little at the unexpected weight of it, then motioned for her to go.

Once back out in the sunlight and a little bit away from the mouth of the cave he set the trunk down. “Well, would you like the honors? It doesn’t look like there’s a lock or anything on it.”

Daenerys studied the trunk, and indeed, there was no lock- just a simple latch. Excitedly, she lifted the latch and the top of the trunk, revealing threadbare cloth inside, covering something up. Her heart pounded in her ears as she ever so gently lifted the fabric, afraid it may fall to pieces within her grasp and gasped as she realized what was inside.


	2. A Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First…. I want to say HOLY FRIJOLES BATMAN! The response to this has been simply overwhelming! A HUMONGOUS thank you to everyone who has read and left comments and kudos. I am stunned by the positive response to this. Second, I would like to offer a sincere apology for the wait for chapter 2. I had a nice chunk of it written before posting chapter 1, and then when it was turning out that people actually liked this, I realized I needed to step back and map out where this was going to go so that I can give myself some direction and incentive to get to the eventual end. While I still don't quite have the “happily ever after” bit down pat, I do have 96% of the plot mapped out. That being said, I had to rearrange how chapter 2 was written a bit because I decided I needed to switch POV to Jon for this chapter. So instead of this being purely from Dany's POV, it will alternate between the pair from chapter to chapter. There may be times in the future where it needs to switch mid-chapter for some reason, however, I hope to keep that few and far between, and I will always mark the change in POV to help avoid confusion. Also, for the record, writing tension between Jon and Dany is super duper hard! Mostly because I want them to just go at it but that wouldn't work for what I've got planned out yet so, they have to wait. For now. :-P  
> Last, I've created an Instagram account specially for this account to post pictures related to the stories as well as other random tidbits that come to mind. I've never been good with tumblr (sorry, I'm old LOL) and insta is a platform that I'm super comfortable with. https://www.instagram.com/smolengineer/ is the link for the account itself, and https://www.instagram.com/p/BpzGuOlnkYK/ is the link to this chapter's moodboard. 
> 
> Enjoy!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/32312816348/in/datetaken/)

**JON**

  
_Jon Snow, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm._

The title played over and over in his mind as he lay awake in bed the night Daenerys proposed to him. He was so taken back that a woman as beautiful and powerful as her would even consider him that he said yes without thinking of the ramifications, and now just the title he would be gaining was beginning to make him queasy. Jon never wanted to be King in the North or even Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, yet here he was, standing on the precipice of becoming King of the whole bloody country - some highborn bastard who’d been sneered at and looked down upon his whole life, soon to be king of the very people who hated the idea of who he was. But the prospect of having Daenerys by his side to weather it all made the thought of it easier to handle. She had plenty more experience ruling over people who hated her if her stories of the masters in Mereen were anything to go by.

They still had plenty of details to work out, including how in all seven hells he would tell his people, but if Daenerys held true to her word and made him an equal ruler by her side, the Northern lords couldn’t be too unhappy. Jon knew they would never consider Daenerys their queen, so it was crucial that he present the marriage alliance to them that showed it in the best light…

 _Gods_ , he needed to tell Sansa. He almost wished he’d brought her along to help with negotiations. Ser Davos gave wise counsel, and Jon was beginning to look at the man as a father figure, but he didn’t know the north as well as he thought he did. Jon only hoped the two of them could navigate the negotiations without everyone losing their heads. His biggest worry was convincing Daenerys and Tyrion the threat of the Night King and his army of the dead were real. It was critical that they believe him and agree to mount some sort of defense against them. Tyrion seemed to be humoring him with his far-fetched armistice plan with his sister, and Jon couldn’t deny how much more prepared they would be if Cersei would agree to send along troops as well, but in his experience, nothing ever went as planned; Tyrion’s most recent plans more.

Best to table it for the night and ponder more on it in the daylight hours.

Jon sighed and rolled onto his side as he closed his eyes to sleep, the image of a very flushed and flustered Daenerys appearing behind his eyelids. He never thought it was possible for her to be more beautiful, but the sight of her cheeks turning pink as he kissed her hand goodnight had his abdomen tightening and trousers feeling uncomfortably tight, even hours later. He chided himself, knowing that since they were going to marry, he’d have her in due time, so it was pointless getting himself worked up now.

The next thing he knew he was being awoken by someone pounding on his door. Grumbling, Jon stumbled from the bed and pulled on a shirt, then wrenched open the door, blinking blearily.

“Davos?”

“Good morning to ya to, yer grace. Sorry to be buggin ya so early, but I wanted to ask ya something before I took Lord Tyrion to King’s Landing. Can I come in?” Davos greeted, his hands folded behind his back.

Jon wordlessly stepped back from the door, allowing the older man inside before shutting it behind them and making his way over to the washbasin. “The sun’s not even up. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait till after the sun was up?” He splashed some cold water on his face, sighing as it washed the sleep from his eyes and helped pull him to full consciousness. “Actually, since you’re here, I’ve some news to tell you. But go ahead, you first.”

“Alright then,” Davos knelt in front of the fireplace, stoking the hot coals back into a small flame. “While Lord Tyrion speaks to his brother on our behalf, I’d like your permission to search Flea Bottom for a young man I happen to know, a blacksmith, and a damn good one as far as I know. I figured it would do us some good to have a smith here with us to start working on the dragon glass weapons. The stuff’s no good to us unless we make it into weapons, and we’re not making use of what we’ve already got. I want to fix that.”

Jon began lacing up his gambeson and pondered. He’d considered having a few of the men they’d brought with them start making weapons, but Davos was right, having a blacksmith do it would be better, and leave more men available to continue mining the obsidian. “Do it. If Cersei agrees to this truce, we’re going to need as many dragon glass weapons as possible in a short amount of time. It’d be a big help to have a blacksmith on hand.”

“Very good.” Davos groaned as he stood from the now steady fire, dusting his knees off. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

“Queen Daenerys asked me to marry her.”

Jon grinned at the look on Davos’ face, the poor man’s eyes so wide they looked as if they would pop out of his head. The smuggler laughed after a moment.

“She really wants the north so badly, she’d resort to marrying ya just to get it?” He asked, taking a seat on the bed.

“Aye. And this time she’ll have it. I’ve agreed.”

Davos ran his hand across his face in exasperation even as he laughed. “I dunno why I’m so surprised. Ya both have been looking at one another like lovesick children for a while now. At least this solves our mutual problems, but I wish you’d said something to me before agreeing. What all are we giving up? What is she giving in return?”

“We were hoping to discuss particulars with you and Lord Tyrion when you returned,” Jon answered, pulling on his boots. “We decided it was better to have you both there for that discussion.”

“Hm. Sounds like yer already working well as a team. That’s good.” Davos smiled, then clapped Jon on the back. “Well then, I’m off to get a bit of breakfast before heading out. While I’m gone, make sure you tell Daenerys about that trunk in the dragon glass cave. Perhaps she knows someone who can swim and retrieve it. I’d be very interested to know what treasures it holds.”

Jon grinned back, giving his companion a nod. “I’ll be down to see you both off. And I planned on letting Daenerys know about the trunk, it’s on her island after all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon did his best to focus on their conversation as he held the torch high in the cavern and forced himself to not turn around. Every little splash and ripple of water grated across his nerves, calling to him to turn his head and look at her, his mind fighting a battle with his body, his honor barely winning out over his lust.

Damn Daenerys and her logic- she didn’t seem to mind disrobing in front of him in order to keep her clothes from getting too wet, but she also didn’t know how often Jon thought about her in less than appropriate ways. She made a point that he knew what parts were already under her clothing and that he would see them eventually because they’d agreed to marry, and his body was in complete agreeance with her. Yet…. he couldn’t let her do it. He couldn’t let himself watch her bare her body in front of him- if not for him- until they were married, or else he'd risk being more forward, he'd risk touching her, he'd risk laying with her if she showed any signs of willingness. And as much as he wanted it - as much as he wanted _her_ \- that was something he could not risk.

Daenerys was a queen. One who would be fighting alongside her troops in the coming wars and could not have a child in her belly or on her hip while doing so. Jon would not disrespect her by getting her pregnant before they married, even if she had the power to legitimize any bastard they had together. Life for a legitimized bastard could still be hard in Westeros, and he refused to put his own children through that.

So he stood steadfastly, patiently waiting for her to tell him he could turn around, and wishing once again she wasn’t so gods forsaken beautiful. Her wet hair clinging to her face and chest, her leather tunic and suede leggings clinging to her still damp skin in ways that made Jon want to whimper. He gave her the torch and carried the trunk, using the simple task to have something else to focus on, and found by the time they had returned to the mouth of the cave he was nowhere near as worked up.

Jon gave her the honor of opening the trunk, his eyes widening as she pulled out the contents.

“A dragon egg…” Daenerys whispered in awe, reaching in and removing the egg from its confines. The scaled shell was almost pure white, with veins of red and silver streaking its surface. When she tilted it in the sunlight, the scales twinkled in opalescence. “It’s alive! I can feel it!” she crooned, holding out the egg to Jon.

He removed his gloves before handling it, just as he had with Drogon, and took the egg with care, his lips slightly parted in wonder. It was much warmer than he expected, considering the trunk itself wasn’t very warm when he held it. “It’s so warm. Like it’s got a fire burning inside it.”

Daenerys pursed her lips, her brows furrowed in confusion. “When I held the eggs of my children and felt their fire, no one else could. You continue to amaze me, Jon Snow.”

He felt his cheeks warm and his lips crook into a small smile at her compliment. Just _how_ feeling the warmth emanating from the egg amazed her, he wasn’t sure, but he was thankful for it.

After another moment of studying his face, Daenerys looked down into the trunk and rifled through the rest of the contents. The cloth came out easily enough to reveal a small leatherbound book, the spine cracking with age, but still completely intact. Her fingers traced the embossed three-headed Targaryen dragon upon the cover then opened it with care to a random page in the middle, a frown creasing her brow again as she tried to make out the words.

“What is it?” Jon moved behind her to look over her shoulder and squinted at the writing on the page. There certainly weren’t any words he recognized. “What language is that?”

“It’s High Valyrian… It speaks of forging weapons... ‘Steel forged in dragon fire...” Daenerys replied quietly as her eyes continued scanning the writing. After another few moments, she closed the book and set it back into the trunk, then pulled out another long item, wrapped in more cloth. The cloth fell away, revealing a thick black horn, banded in a red and black metal that gleamed in the sunlight, with strange symbols branded into the metal.

“I’ve seen a horn like that.” Jon mused as he set the egg back within the trunk, careful to nestle it back beside the book. “Not quite as extravagant, but similar in size. It was found with dragon glass daggers at the Fist of the First Men beyond the wall. Although it was cracked in half and the symbols on the bands wore off.”

“When I was a girl, my brother told me stories of the Dragonriders of Valyria using horns to control their dragons… Perhaps that’s what this is.” Daenerys murmured as she ran her fingers over the horn.

Jon shifted his position, his arm reaching around her to touch the horn himself, careful not to touch her, but enjoying how close their bodies were to one another. He caught himself before he ghosted his fingers over hers, resisting the sudden and overwhelming urge. “Perhaps the book could tell us more.” he cleared his throat and pulled his hand away, taking a deep breath to clear his head as he stood upright.

The motion seemed to break whatever spell Daenerys was under and she placed the horn back into the trunk, closing the lid as she moved to stand beside him. “Let’s get this up to my study, and I can have a better look at the book.”

Jon nodded and lifted the trunk once more, allowing Daenerys to lead the way. A short walk later they made their way through the castle to her study, the queen asking a guard to fetch Missandei along the way.

“Your grace? Is all well?” the brown skinned woman asked as she entered the room just behind Jon. “I had thought your ride would last at least until the noon meal.”

“Ride?” Jon set his parcel on her desk and raised an eyebrow, his hands still resting on the handles of the trunk.

“I had intended on going riding after seeing Tyrion and Ser Davos off, however, King Jon and I went treasure hunting instead,” Daenerys smirked, approaching him and reaching for the lid of the trunk. He stepped back, allowing her to pull out its contents and lay them out carefully on her desk, her hands lingering on the egg as Missandei approached, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

“It’s beautiful, your grace,” she commented, her hand extending toward the egg. “May I hold it?”  

To his surprise, Daenerys nodded, stepping to the side as she watched her advisor gently lift the egg from the table. Jon kept his expression neutral as he studied the queen, her violet eyes alight with the same eagerness she’d regarded him with as he held the object before them. The eagerness turned to confusion as Missandei set the egg back onto the table, and Daenerys regarded him with curiosity.

“Will you try to hatch it?”

Jon couldn’t quite figure out the final look Daenerys gave him before turning back to the other woman, smiling softly. “Perhaps. I’m hoping the journal packed with it gives more clues as to how it is supposed to be done. I don’t believe the circumstances that led to my children being hatched were exactly ideal.”

He knew that story from their nightly suppers together- she had set the eggs within her former husband’s funeral pyre, tied the witch responsible for his death to it and set it ablaze before walking into the flames. The tale was a tall one, but so was the tale of the Night King and the white walkers, he supposed. Plus, it was handy for a woman who was around fire-breathing dragons to be fire-proof as well.

“As you say, your grace. Shall I have the kitchens prepare the noon meal then? Will King Jon be joining you?” the other woman answered, glancing at Jon briefly and hiding a small, knowing smile.

_Daenerys has told her._

“Aye. I’ve not had anything to eat today and didn’t have any other plans. If that’s alright, your grace?” Jon answered, somewhat emboldened by the fact that one of her closest advisors knew about their pending marriage and seemed to approve.

Her smile grew and she merely nodded before her advisor left them alone, shutting the door behind her. “She didn’t feel it,” Daenerys stated, picking up the book and heading over to the fireplace, sitting on a low bench in front of the large fire. “The egg, I mean. Missandei didn’t feel the fire within it like we did. She would have said something. Do you know what this means?”

“No. Do you?” Jon removed his cloak and draped it across a chair before joining Daenerys in front of the fire, sitting on the bench beside her.

“It has to mean that somewhere, within your family history, the blood of old Valyria is mixed in. It is the only way to explain how Drogon reacted to you, as well as how you are able to feel the same life within the egg as I can.” She said quietly as if speaking too loudly about it was forbidden. “Do you know who your mother was?”  

The question surprised Jon, following such a proclamation of what his bloodline must be, that he hesitated on answering, and Daenerys seemed to take it as offense.

“I am so sorry… That’s not-”

“It’s alright,” Jon replied, his lips pulling into a lopsided grin. “I like that you want to know more about me. But… no. My father… the last time I saw him, I was headed off to the wall and he was headed to King’s Landing. He told me that the next time he saw me, he’d tell me all about my mother, but I never saw him again after that. I was stuck up at the end of the world, and he was stuck in a pit of vipers that took his head. I’m afraid the answer to who she was and where she might be died along with him.” His heart wrenched as her face fell. “Why does that make you sad?”

“It seems neither of us knew our mothers. At least you knew your father.” She replied, her gaze slipping down to the book in her lap before returning to his. “Tyrion and Varys have told me much about Lord Stark, and the picture they paint is much nicer than what Viserys made him out to be. As you and I grow… closer… I find myself regretting many of the thoughts I’ve had regarding your family and my overall treatment of you upon our first meeting. Can you forgive me?”

The lovely pink tinge was returning to her cheeks and Jon found himself wishing the setting weren’t so intimate; he was sorely tempted to lean forward and touch her, gently kiss her beautiful lips and tell her it was alright, she has nothing to be ashamed of. As it was, he had no idea if she would take offense to such an action, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going further if she accepted the kiss.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Daenerys.” He offered a small smile. “I grew up being told all Targaryens mad and bloodthirsty. Yet I’ve met two Targaryens who couldn’t be farther from that.”

“Two? You’ve met another?” Her eyes sparkled, lighting up her face with hope.

“Aye. Aemon Targaryen. He was the maester at Castle Black… probably one of the best men I’ve ever known.” Jon replied, knowing his next words would dash that hope away, and cursing himself for being the one to do it. “He… passed, some time ago. From what I’m told, it was peaceful. In his sleep.”

Daenerys was quiet, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to spot him in a lie. After a  moment her gaze dropped as she let out a small laugh. “It would be my luck, that the only other Targaryen to survive the Usurper would be up at the wall, untouchable to the man who would have us all killed, only to die before I could meet him.”

“He knew about you, you know. His steward would read him letters telling of your conquests in Essos.” Jon said quietly, reaching forward and gently taking her hand in his to offer comfort, once again memorizing the softness and heat radiating from her. “He was proud of all you had accomplished. Truly. Perhaps at supper, I can tell you more about him.”

Her breath had hitched slightly when he took her hand, but she quickly relaxed, her fingers gently wrapping around his as she nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.” She gave him a soft squeeze then pulled her hand away and opened the book, carefully turning the pages until she came across the one they had been studying on the beach. “I… ah… I will have Missandei look through this in more detail and perhaps make a full written translation into the common tongue so that you may have a copy as well if you’d like.”

“Aye, that’d be nice. I’m afraid I can’t make much sense of,” Jon leaned closer to look at the page Daenerys had turned to and frowned as he struggled with the words. “Gah-uma-gone course-ee-on… and so on.”

His butchering of High Valyrian earned him a laugh, Daenerys’ eyes sparkling once again. “That was horrid, Jon. Your accent is more suited to Dothraki, but if you wish, I can work on teaching you Valyrian as well. It says, ‘Gaomagon korzion hen daor hēnka sȳz se bāneves lēda zaldrīzes perzys ēva māzigon hēnkirī.  Pār mazverdagon egros.’”

“That’s a mouthful.” Jon cut in, needing her to stop speaking before he did something very stupid. The language was confusing, but the strange yet beautiful words coming from her lips made it increasingly harder to keep from leaning forward a few more inches and kiss her. “What’s it mean?”

“It's instructions. Heat iron and steel together using dragon fire, and then shape a sword from it… folding over the metal at least a thousand times...” She replied distractedly, her finger ghosting over the page as she continued to read. “Down here it talks about crushing obsidian and using it to keep the metal pure. How would powdered obsidian keep it pure?”

Jon laughed as he recalled his childhood at Winterfell- on days when Robb was off learning what it was to be Lord of Winterfell, Jon would spend his time training with the sword or sulking around the forge, observing the blacksmith. Daenerys seemed almost offended by his laughing at her question, her glare quickly sobering him. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I spent a great deal of time in Winterfell's forge as a boy. Never quite got the hang of actually making anything, but I know the process well enough. Fine sand is used in the heating of the metal to help draw out dirt and anything that isn’t steel. It makes for a stronger finished piece. I suppose crushed dragon glass would be very similar to sand.”

Daenerys’ face transformed from anger to wonder, a small smile playing about her lips. “Jon… I think we may have just uncovered the secret to Valyrian steel. Dragon fire and dragon glass and folding the steel… it’s no wonder there are no longer that many weapons left- a truly skilled blacksmith and an almost unlimited supply of dragon glass would be needed.”

“And dragons.”

“Yes. And dragons.” she chuckled at his statement, shifting her body slightly toward him. “If we could find a blacksmith willing, I would gladly help with attempting to forge new weapons based on the instructions here. If we are successful, as a token of good faith, I would give the weapons to the North first, so that you may distribute them as you see fit.”

He didn’t know how long he sat there, gaping like a fool at her proclamation, captivated by her gaze. “I… ah… Daenerys. Thank you.” He finally stammered out. “That will go a long way in getting the northern lords to trust you.”

“I would hope so. I can’t imagine we could make new Valyrian weapons as quickly as we could traditional weapons, and if you are right when you say they can kill the White Walkers, I’m thinking you could use them before I can.” Her smile turned somewhat shy, and her hand moved to rest upon one of his own where it lay on his knee. It didn’t help his stupor. “At the very least, they would be invaluable to each of the northern lords to pass down… to… their heirs…”

Jon couldn’t help reaching forward with his free hand and brushing back an errant strand of hair as she spoke, causing her to trail off. Or at least, he thought she trailed off. The sound of his own heart beating seemed to slow down time and block out all other thoughts and noises, his sole focus being Daenerys as he closed the last few inches between them, his hand cupping her cheek and his lips tentatively pressed to hers. She relaxed against him, opening her lips to him so he deepened the kiss, his grip sliding from her cheek to the base of her neck, his other hand slipping from her grasp to slide around her waist and pull her closer… When the sound of the door scraping open made them both jump and pull away from one another, their heads turning to look toward the source of the noise.

Missandei had returned with a tray full of food and had the good grace of pretending as though she hadn’t just walked in on a rather intimate moment, simply nodding at the two very red-faced monarchs as she set the tray on the table beside Daenerys’ desk. She quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.

He let out a tense breath, standing up and turning away from Daenerys, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid. It was the middle of the day! In a room where literally everyone had access to, behind a door that wasn’t even locked! What would have happened had the queen’s advisor _not_ interrupted them?

He couldn’t even allow himself to go down that line of thinking. Perhaps it was best that he left for the time being.

“Daenerys I-”

“Don’t.” She cut him off as he turned to speak to her. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine, Jon. It really is.” She was standing now, taking a tentative step toward him, causing him to step backward in response.

“I meant what I said in the cavern, Daenerys,” he growled, curling his hands into fists to resist the temptation to reach out and touch her. “I want you, but I have to make sure that doesn’t happen again until after we’re married. Which is going to be especially difficult now that I know this isn’t completely one-sided. So I think I’ll go for now. I meant to check on the progress of the mine today anyway, and I’ve a letter home I should be finishing. I’ll see you at supper? Assuming I’m still invited?”

Jon knew he’d messed up as he spoke, watching her face change from beautifully flushed and breathless to her queenly stoicism from their very first meeting, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what else to do. She merely nodded and walked over to the tray of food, effectively dismissing him by simply ignoring his presence. He gave her one last longing look before he stalked off, silently cursing himself once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’d been a small cave-in in the mine, stranding two of Jon’s men and three of the Dothraki workers Daenerys had lent him. It had taken him and the others working through the afternoon and most of the evening to free the trapped workers, and by the time Jon made it back to his chambers it was well past the time he would normally go to supper with Daenerys.

Surprisingly, there was a hot bath already waiting for him, along with a bowl of still steaming stew, a heel of bread and a giant horn of ale. His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten all day, and he decided to scarf down the food and gulped down the ale as the water in the tub cooled slightly. Then he stripped, sighing loudly as he slipped into the large copper tub, allowing the hot water to soothe his muscles while he reflected on the day.

He'd been excited to show Daenerys the location of the trunk, surprised at her willingness and ability to go get it, awed at its contents and her willingness to share them. However, all of that paled in comparison to the way her body felt pressed against his, the taste of her lips, the exotic smell of her…

“Seven hells….” Jon groaned, sliding down under the water to get his hair wet, wiping it back from his face when he surfaced. “You bloody, northern fool.” It didn’t take him long to lather up and rinse off the suds and dirt as he grumbled to himself, worrying about how much he’d just messed up everything.

Her reaction to the kiss itself wasn’t what worried him, he was actually elated that she had responded so eagerly to his touch; it was her cold dismissal of him when he closed himself off and suggested he leave. Perhaps she had misunderstood him in the cavern when he told her his feelings on siring a bastard, but… _Gods_ , how hard was it to understand his worry? And now that he’d perhaps scorned her, would her proposal still be on the table? If she reneged, what would that mean for him and the north? Would she return to holding her help hostage on the condition he bend the knee? He’d be left either the Warden in the North or having to fight against her, assuming he survived the Great War, and all he’d have was the memory of a single kiss.

He was pulling on his trousers after drying off when he heard a soft knock on his door. After hastily putting on a nightshirt he opened the door and stood face to face with a Dothraki guard who merely grunted and held out a letter bearing the Targaryen seal. Jon took it and thanked the man, who promptly strode off without a word. He swallowed a lump in his throat, closed the door and sat on his bed, hands shaking. Whatever this letter contained couldn’t be good for him. Why would Daenerys send him a letter and not speak to him in person?

With a huff, he broke the seal, unfolding the parchment and read the note:

_Jon- I was a little disappointed you didn’t show for supper, here I was thinking you were beginning to reconsider my proposal, but then was told about what happened in the mine and thought it silly of me to have worried quite so much. I’m thankful no one was hurt, and I do hope that this setback hasn’t hindered your progress in mining the dragon glass. Please meet me for breakfast in my chambers an hour after sunrise tomorrow.  I feel we have much to discuss before Tyrion and Davos return and we negotiate the marriage part of our alliance. Yours truly, Daenerys._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to promise regularly scheduled updates, but I'm a mother of 3 kids under 10… so they keep me super busy and the only time I get to truly devote to writing is after bedtime and all other household stuff is done. I'm gonna do my best to churn out chapters, but I don't want to make any promises that I can't keep… like I did with the first chapter to this. I honestly feel horrible about the long wait there after promising so many people a short wait. 
> 
> If you want something to read in the meantime that's complete, check out Roles and Raptures by my dear friend, Gohans_Onna2. It's an amazing Jonaerys fic and is based off of book lore, not the show. She is an incredible writer (and awesome person in general), and I was honored with being picked to beta the story towards the later chapters. 
> 
> <3


	3. No Secrets Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are revealed.... will they change how our King and Queen look at one another? Will the alliance survive it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I promised updates would come faster now! :) Make sure you check out my Instagram dedicated to my fics- you can find me there @smolengineer. 
> 
> Also a HUUUGE thanks to Daenerys1417 for helping me beta this chapter and catching all the horrendous grammar mistakes so that I didn't have to, and for reminding me that sandwiches aren't exactly canon foods ;-)
> 
> When you're done here, make sure you go over to her page and check her out if you haven't read her stuff already. She's amazingly talented!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/32312856538/in/datetaken/)

**DAENERYS**

 

“I think I’ll go for now. I meant to check on the progress of the mine today anyway, and I’ve a letter home I should be finishing. I’ll see you at supper? Assuming I’m still invited?” 

His words were innocent enough, as were his reasons. So why did they slice Daenerys to the bone? Why did those words hurt so much? The only way she could keep herself composed was to agree that he should leave and turn away from him, heading to the tray of food Missandei had brought only moments before. She focused on the neat little stacks of cheese and breads, listening to his retreat and only letting a small sob escape her lips once he’d closed the door behind him.

She sunk to the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest as she composed herself, silently scolding herself for acting like a lovesick little girl. Jon hadn’t outright rejected her, he’d admitted that he wanted her… _he_ was the one to initiate the kiss! But it still hurt that he would tease her with a taste of what he could give, only to rip it away. Perhaps she didn’t kiss well, by Westerosi standards? Or had he expected her to react differently?

“Your grace?”

Daenerys pushed herself up off the floor and stood to face her friend. “Yes?”

Missandei gave her a look as if to say she knew she was just sulking on the floor, and folded her hands in front of her, waiting for Daenerys to elaborate. Instead of speaking, the queen merely rolled her eyes and poured out two glasses of wine, handing one over to her advisor as she made her way to sit at her desk.

“May I speak freely?” Missandei took a seat across from her and sipped at her glass, her brows raised. 

“You can always tell me what’s on your mind, you know that. I value your opinion.”

“I had thought things were going well between you and his grace, yet, he’s run out of here like you lit him on fire and I entered to find you… not yourself,” she finished quickly, cradling her glass in her hands. “What happened?”

Daenerys took a deep breath to help steady herself, glancing down at her desk then returning her gaze to her advisor. “Once you left, Jon distanced himself. He seems… very reluctant to pursue the physical _attraction_ we have until after we are married. It is silly of me to be so stung by it, but I cannot help it. I’ve grown fond of him in such a short amount of time and… I truly believe he would be… _different_ from what I’ve known in that regard. So I am quite looking forward to the day Jon Snow allows me into his bed, whether it’s before or after our wedding day.”

Missandei pursed her lips as she thought, and took another sip of her wine. “Has he explained why he is keeping his distance?”

“He’s concerned with getting me pregnant before the wedding ceremony.” She admitted sadly. Part of her knew that she had to tell him about her inability to become pregnant before the alliance was formally agreed upon, but it left a lot of uncertainty hanging in the air. Would he think she was just saying that in an attempt to seduce him? And if he believed her, would he still go through with the marriage, knowing that she couldn’t give him any heirs?  
  
Daenerys wasn’t sure she could stand the rejection from him at this point. As silly as it was, she’d grown used to having Jon Snow around every night for supper, and occasionally during the day. He’d been on Dragonstone for less than a month, but it was now as if he was as much a part of this island as anyone else. Despite his stubborn will to not bend the knee, he was still kind, and courteous to her, and comely to boot. The more she got to know about Jon Snow as a person, the more she found she liked him, and the more she was looking forward to calling him husband.

“You haven’t told him about your condition, your grace?” Missandei asked quietly, her eyes full of concern.

Daenerys shook her head and drank down the rest of her wine. “No. I’ll have to, I know, but I haven’t.”

“Surely he would be more forward if-”

“One would think.” The queen cut in and poured herself another glass full of wine, fully enjoying the pleasant sensation of the alcohol on an empty stomach. It was better than feeling hurt and confused. “But who knows with him. He speaks of his fear of siring another bastard and then he was the one who kissed me first, it’s not like I was _trying_ to do anything, I was giving him space and then….”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, plucking a bit of cheese from the tray and munching on it as she thought of what to do next.

“Perhaps at supper, you should tell him.” Missandei offered, taking a sweetroll. “Approach it as getting all of your secrets out on the table. If you wish him to rule by your side, you will need complete trust in one another. Perhaps he will offer a few secrets of his own?”

A smile formed on Daenerys’ face before Missandei even finished, realizing it was a good way to finally get an answer about Ser Davos’ “knife to the heart” comment when they first met. Both Jon and his Hand had been extremely evasive of that question since it was slipped.

“You see? This is why you’re always allowed to speak freely, my friend. I don’t know that I would have ever thought of that.” She raised her glass to toast her advisor, breaking into a full laugh as Missandei smiled back.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He never came to supper. 

Daenerys had chosen a particularly revealing dress, the neckline plunged deep into her cleavage and had cutouts along her belly, back, and sides. She hadn’t worn it since conquering Mereen, and it was far too cold on Dragonstone to really be wearing it for any length of time, but the fire going in her sitting room was hot and with any luck, she wouldn’t be wearing the garment for long.

The time for supper came and went, and with a disappointed sigh, Daenerys ate some of the food and prepared herself to retire early, asking one of her unsullied guards to have Varys report on Jon’s movements since midday. It was something she’d stopped doing when they started taking the evening meal together, however her curiosity was getting the better of her. Hopefully, Varys would be able to report back before she fell asleep.

As she lay in bed, her arms and body curled around a pillow for comfort, she willed a reason for his absence to present itself. Maybe it was an act, and he didn’t actually want her but was pretending because he wanted her to believe, for whatever reason, that he desired her beyond the political alliance. Perhaps he _did_ actually want her but felt guilty because he had another lover back home, and his guilt over both the necessity of the alliance and his lust for her kept him from physically pursuing her. Maybe…. just maybe… his fear of getting her pregnant was true, and he was keeping his distance in an attempt to control himself fully.

She laughed at the absurdity of it all, rolling onto her back and taking the pillow with her. There had been times when she’d gotten close to telling Jon of her curse, but there hadn’t been any point at the time. They were nothing more than tentative allies, and it was a secret she held close, as it threatened her rule over Westeros before she even had the Iron Throne. Marrying Jon would at least give her a male presence by her side when she took her place as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and as Queen, she could legitimize him and shut all the naysayers up- something she could also do for any child they might have…that they _wouldn’t_ have.

A gentle knock and the opening of her door interrupted her thoughts, an Unsullied stepping through with a small note. She slipped off her bed and took it from the man, who saluted her with a fist to his chest before silently leaving. Vary’s flowing handwriting met her when she opened up the small scroll, and she sighed a breath of relief as she read his words.

_JS in dragonglass mine all afternoon and evening due to minor cave in. Three of our men were trapped but now freed. No casualties. JS still in mine directing cleanup._

After a moment to reread the scroll, Daenerys stuck her head out her door and ordered a hot meal and bath to be drawn the moment his grace was seen returning to the castle, and she rushed inside to write Jon a note, inviting him to break their fast in the morning together. She sealed it, and handed it off to another guard, with instructions to give it to Jon once he’d had time to eat and bathe.

Finally, she shut her door and flopped back into the bed, relieved that Jon hadn’t been avoiding her, as well as for the safety of all in the mine. She still worried about what might happen between her and Jon in the morning, hoping that she could repair this rift between them among all the other problems they were each having at the moment. It took her a long time, but eventually, she was able to stop worrying enough to fall into a fitful sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Your grace? It is almost time for Jon Snow to arrive.” Missandei gently shook Daenerys awake, the queen groaning as she sat up. “Are you feeling alright? I can delay him or-” 

“No, no, I’m alright. Come, help me into a robe and then we can do something simple with my hair.” Daenerys slid from the bed and straightened out her silk nightgown. Normally she would have prepared herself to be a little more composed in front of Jon Snow, but her sleep was restless, and she already felt vulnerable, worrying about his reaction to her confession. The least she could do was make herself feel comfortable.

Missandei helped her into a cozy and warm cream-colored woolen robe, then brushed out the worst of the tangles in her silver hair and braided it into a single cable hanging down her back. She had just slid her feet into her fur-lined slippers when servants began bringing food and drink in, closely followed by Jon himself.

She could feel her heart beating in her throat at the sight of him- clad in only a loosely fitting dark blue tunic and his usual black leather pants and boots, his hair a mass of raven curls framing his face. She’d never seen him with his hair down before, and the effect was striking. It amazed her at how young he truly looked, and she realized he must really not be all that much older than her.

“Good morning, your gr- Dany.” He stammered out, his fingers fidgeting awkwardly at his sides.

She shared a smile with Missandei as the room cleared out, her advisor leaving last and shutting the door behind her. “Good morning Jon. I’m glad you came. Please, have a seat.”

They both sat at the small table that had been set for them and ate in companionable silence, each more focused on their food and honeyed milk than each other, although more often than not, one or the other would catch each other stealing furtive glances and sharing coy smiles.

She felt like a silly maiden, stealing glances at this warrior king and finding him doing the same. _Why was I worried that he did not want me?_ Daenerys mused, drinking down the rest of her milk and leaning back in her chair. Jon finished his food moments after her and mimicked her posture, his smile now more awkward as the tension between them shifted.

“I apologize for missing our supper last night.” He suddenly blurted out, breaking the tension slightly. “I suppose I have you to thank for the hot meal and bath?”

“There’s no need to apologize.” She offered a sympathetic smile. “I should be thanking you for rescuing my men.”

“They were there because of me. I was responsible for their safety.”

“Do you always do that?” She asked, suddenly annoyed. “Have you never been able to take a compliment or sincere thanks? I’m not thanking you because it is expected, one leader to another. I am genuinely thankful that you saved my men, and that no one was hurt. They wouldn’t have been there had I not allowed you to mine the dragonglass in the first place if you want to get extremely technical about it.”

Jon was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. Although to be fair, you’re not so good at that yourself.”

Daenerys almost replied, her anger flaring, but stamped down on the initial reaction, reminding herself that she didn’t bring him here to argue. “Perhaps it is something we could work on together. That is… if you’re still amenable to the marriage part of our alliance?” She could see him visibly relax, and she sighed as well, realizing that she’d been holding tension in her shoulders as she anticipated his rejection.

“I admit I thought you would take that off the table, considering how I behaved yesterday.” He replied, his cheeks flushing pink under his beard. “But yes… ultimately, I believe it is the best solution for everyone- I’ll be getting your help when the long night comes, and you’ll be getting minimal resistance from the northern lords when we take the throne from Cersei. I can’t say everyone will be happy about the arrangement, but it offers us the best compromise.”

“Good. Well, now that we cleared that bit up… I wanted to ensure that we both were honest with one another.” She said tentatively, searching for the best words. “If we are to rule together, we should have no secrets between us, and what I am about to tell you may change your decision to agree to this marriage altogether.”

Jon frowned, his lips parting as if he were going to speak, but then he nodded. “Aye, we can’t expect to fully trust one another unless we’re completely honest with one another.”

“I’m glad you agree.” She shifted in her seat, her hands clasping in her lap. “I… I am called ‘The Mother of Dragons’. And truly, I see Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion as my sons. I may not have carried them in my womb, but they are my children all the same.” Her throat began to tighten and her eyes began to tear up as she spoke, making her confession all the more difficult. “And now they are the only children I’ll ever have.” She took a moment to take a deep breath before meeting his penetrating gaze once again. “Do you understand?”

“No. You’ll need heirs to take the throne one day, and as great as your dragons are, they cannot be kings,” Jon replied. Whether he was being purposefully obtuse or not, she couldn’t discern, but it was obvious he needed more of an explanation.

“I will have to name heirs, once I have the throne.” She explained, coughing slightly to clear her throat. “I cannot have children. I… am barren. So, if you marry me, you must know beforehand that I cannot provide you with heirs.”

“And just how do you know that?” He asked, leaning forward, his eyes probing. He wasn’t mocking her, he genuinely wanted to know.

“ _Vezh fin saja rhaesheseres_.... The stallion who mounts the world.” Daenerys said sadly. “That’s what my son would have been, had he not been cursed to die as I was birthing him. My son died to bring my husband back from death, and even then, Drogo didn’t live. Not really. He was just a husk of himself. A living body with no soul. I had to end his second life with my own hands, to finish what the witch had started.” She blinked and felt a tear slip down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away on her sleeve. It had been a long time since she had spoken in detail about what happened to Drogo and Rhaego, but Jon deserved to know. After another shaky breath, she continued. “She told me only death can pay for life, and that I traded Rhaego’s life for Drogo’s. She tricked me into sacrificing his life so that he could not be like his father, and yet did not return Drogo to his former self… another trick. I asked her when my husband would return to himself and she told me, ‘When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.’ It was then that I knew Drogo would never be himself again, and I would never have children.”

She let a small sob escape and looked down at her hands through blurry eyes, attempting to get a reign on her emotions. She hadn’t spoken the words of the curse since she had to give mercy to her husband’s body so that his soul would rise up when she burned his body on his funeral pyre. Remembering the words, speaking them out loud, brought back all of the pain and grief she’d locked up in the red wastes when she was forced to be strong and lead her remaining people to safety.

“Dany...”

She gasped as Jon said her name and took her hands in his, she hadn’t even realized he’d moved from his side of the table to hers, kneeling in front of her.

“I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.” He rasped, his voice full of emotion as well. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping a tear away. “You’ve had a maester or a healer or midwife confirm her words?”

“I… no… I haven’t,” she sputtered out, eyes widening at the implication. “I… I never had the time or chance to even think about it. I was too focused on surviving, and then getting to Astapor for the Unsullied and then freeing all the slaves…. And then here.”

“You ah…. you’ve not taken anyone else to bed since your husband?” He asked, his face turning red as the words left his mouth, the slight grimace on his face told her he was bracing for her potential ire.

She smiled softly and placed her hand over his on her face. “No, I haven’t laid with any man since Drogo. Like before, I had more pressing matters than my own loneliness to deal with at the time. Besides, there were no men who interested me enough to allow them into my bed. There were those who tried, but ultimately failed.”

“So,” Jon started with the hint of a smirk on his lips. “You’ve not had a confirmation of the witch’s words from a maester or healer, and you’ve not been with anyone since she cursed you… forgive me but, don’t you think the woman who killed your husband and child might not be the most reliable source of information concerning your fertility?” He finished with a small chuckle.

She offered a small chuckle back. “Perhaps not. I’m convinced because… I have not… bled regularly since it happened, which has only strengthened my belief in the words. If it pleases you, I’ll have an examination by a maester, once the Citadel has assigned a new one to Dragonstone, or once we head North, your maester may examine me.”

“Good.” He smiled, then leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead before standing, gently pulling her up with him. “I grew up in my brother’s shadow, learning alongside him, all the while knowing he would be lord of Winterfell and I would be…. Well, not lord of Winterfell. I’d get nothing, except for whatever job Robb would grant me. It’s part of the reason I joined the Night’s Watch- even bastards can rise high there, and part of their vows is to take no wife and father no children. I never wanted to pass on the name Snow to my child. No highborn woman would have me, and a lowborn woman wouldn’t have a name of her own. A bastard, even a highborn one, isn’t a good life for a child.”

He took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips, placing featherlight kisses along them. All Daenerys could do was blush.

“Your ability or inability to have children does not affect my attraction to you, nor does it put me off my decision to accept the marriage alliance.” He continued, lowering their hands, but still holding on. “I’ll ask you to please be patient with me until the wedding night. I promise to make up for all the waiting.”

Daenerys gave his hands a gentle squeeze and smiled. “I can do that. No promises if you kiss me again though.” She added with a laugh.

“I deserve that.” Jon chuckled briefly, his smile slowly turning into a slight frown. “In the interest of keeping things honest between us, I do have something of my own to share with you, although we may want to have a seat again, like yours, it isn’t exactly a happy tale."

“Of course.” Daenerys gently pulled him toward an overly luxurious chaise they often retired to after their nightly suppers, and they sat, still holding hands. She gently squeezed his hands again to reassure him he had her full attention.

His eyes searched her face, finally settling on her eyes as he sighed in resignation. “I’m worried you won’t believe me.”

“It can’t possibly be more far-fetched than your tale of walking dead men, or mine of a witch’s curse.” Daenerys mused, arching an eyebrow in question. “Or even the tale of how my children came to be?”

A small smile ghosted across his lips. “Perhaps not. You know that when I was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, I let the wildlings through the wall… it didn’t make me very popular with a large portion of the men.” He paused, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “My steward, Olly, he was a young boy from one of the villages in the Gift that was attacked by wildlings and was the only survivor. He… lured me into a trap. A group of my men had me cornered and stabbed me. Olly… he… when Ser Davos said I took a knife to the heart for my people, it wasn’t just a figure of speech.”

A number of questions came to mind, all of which might have derailed his admission, so she asked the one that seemed the most logical. “How did you manage to survive?”

“I didn’t,” He replied, holding her gaze. “They left me to die there in the snow, and I did. Everything went cold and black, and the next thing I knew, I was awake and alive in the chambers Ser Davos was using at Castle Black, naked as my nameday. I thought it was a dream at first, how could my men… my brothers… _murder_ me? Then I looked down and saw the wounds… I don’t know how I was brought back, but as soon as I’d gotten my bearings, I decided I was done with the Watch. Done with it all. I didn’t care about the Night King or the army of the dead or any of it. I was determined to get away from everyone and everything I ever knew. It took Sansa walking through the doors of Castle Black to get me back on track, and led me to take back my home and be named King in the North.”

Daenerys’ world tilted slightly as she realized Mirri Maz Durr _had_ actually tricked her. If Jon were being truthful- and he’d never given her any real reason to doubt his word- it was possible, somehow, to bring someone back from death to the way they were before, and the witch hadn’t done that for Drogo… had the witch also lied about her fertility? She decided to revisit that later, focusing on Jon who was particularly vulnerable at the moment.

“May I see them? Your scars?” Daenerys asked quietly, knowing it might be easier to accept his story if she saw the proof as well.  

Jon sighed loudly and nodded, releasing her hands. He loosened the collar of his tunic and slowly pulled it up and over his head, revealing five ugly, half healed cuts on his torso, and one curved wound on his chest, right where his heart would be. He gripped his tunic in both hands in his lap, his head turned down and gaze on the floor.

“Oh, Jon…” Daenerys whispered, tentatively reaching out and gently tracing the curved scar above his heart. He flinched, but allowed the contact. “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head in response.

Her fingers trailed down his chest to his belly, gently caressing each mark as if her fingers could magically heal him. “I believe you.” She said with conviction.

Jon finally turned his head to meet her gaze, eyes wide in surprise. “Truly?”

“With all the magic I've seen and experienced, I would be remiss not to believe you,” Daenerys admitted, her palm now resting flat on his chest. “About your death and resurrection, as well as the Night King and the army of the dead. I can only hope Cersei agrees to this plan of Tyrion’s so that I may help you sooner, rather than later.”

His whole body seemed to relax and he let go of his tunic to place a hand over hers on his chest, while the other gently cupped her cheek again. “Seven hells, I want to kiss you again…”

Daenerys was startled by his sudden admission, then saddened as he began to pull his hand away from her face so she stopped him. “So kiss me.”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes and closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. She was done waiting for him to struggle with himself as he tried to decide between his honor and his body’s desires. _She_ desired him as well, and she would teach him that there was more than one way to enjoy the pleasure of one another’s company, aside from the actual act of coitus.

“Dany… I…” He panted between kisses, their tongues dancing, battling for dominance. “We shouldn’t…”

“We won’t.” She reassured him and climbed into his lap and made him lean back against the chaise, her knees straddling his hips, her hands sliding over his chest, over his shoulders, and up his neck to play with his hair as they continued. His hands began roaming her body as well, caressing her slightly exposed thighs, her hips, her waist, his thumbs barely grazing the bottoms of her breasts through her robe. She whimpered against his lips as a tingling warmth began pooling at the apex of her thighs. She pressed against him for some mild relief, pleased with herself to feel his arousal through their clothing.

“Your actions don’t inspire a lot of confidence, Daenerys.” Jon growled against her lips, his hips rising to press back against her.

Daenerys let out a breathy moan then sat up, smirking down at him. “I needed to be sure you were ready.” She replied cryptically, bending over to kiss his cheek, under his jaw, and down his neck. She adjusted her body between his legs to more easily place kisses along his chest and belly, her fingers playing with the waistband of his trousers.

“What’re you up-”

_BANG_

Jon’s question was interrupted by a loud knock on Daenerys’ chamber door, the pair sitting up as Qhono stepped in. “Khalessi, ojil nakho. Yer jif tiholat Tyrion sachi mahrazh akka kahl kijinosi valshe mahrazh et jadat. Sachi mahrazh astat mori zhorre ase yer zigereo tiholat ajjin.”

Daenerys distanced herself from Jon, scowling at her bloodrider. “While I appreciate you bringing this news, I'll remind you to not barge into my private rooms unless I am in immediate danger. You knock and wait to be called in. Understood?”

Qhono glanced between her and Jon and chuckled. “As you say, Khaleesi.” He acknowledged and left.

“What did he say?”

She turned back to Jon, who had already pulled his tunic back on and was fiddling with the laces to tighten it back up.

“Tyrion and Ser Davos are back, with immediate and urgent news from King’s Landing.” She declared, folding her hands in front of her, a smile hinting at the corners of her mouth. “We should probably dress and meet them in the war room as soon as possible. Shall we continue this at supper?”

“Aye. We shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany get interrupted.... again! What news do you think Tyrion has?
> 
> At this point, you're going to start seeing more canon divergence, since there are things that happened on the show that seemed more for the sake of convenience and ending things faster, and now that I've taken the reigns, I feel said things should happen a bit differently. You'll still recognize some bits from season 7, but they're going to be more and more scarce as time goes on and we begin to venture into post- season 7 territory.
> 
>  
> 
> DOTHRAKI TRANSLATION: Khalessi, ojil nakho. Yer jif tiholat Tyrion sachi mahrazh akka Kahl kijinosi valshe mahrazh et jadat. Sachi mahrazh astat mori zhorre ase yer zigereo tiholat ajjin. - My queen, I’m sorry to bother you. You should know that Tyrion the half man and the king in the north’s man have arrived. He says you should come immediately, the news cannot wait.  
> 
> ****Note on my Valyrian and Dothraki tranlsations*****  
> I have NO clue if these are anywhere near correct. I'm using an online translator that I have to really dumb down the sentences in order to get some of the words translated. If anyone knows of a relatively reliable translator or can better translate what I've got written, please let me know. <3


	4. Do Not Disturb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News and identities are revealed, contingency plans made, and Jon loses control. *NSFW warning*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BAAAAAACK! Many thanks to Daenerys1417 for giving this the run through and making it the best it can be. As a warning, when I plotted this chapter out initially, I hadn't meant for the smut bit to happen, but as I was writing, it sorta happened. It seemed right as things were unfolding, so it's happened. I hope y'all can forgive me.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/46134187042/in/datetaken/)

**JON**

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she looked so tempting in just a dressing gown with her hair simply braided, the way her exotic citrusy smell still filled his nose, the way he could still taste her lips on his tongue, and the feel of her body pressed tightly against his. It made his heart pound just to think about it and his trousers were starting to become uncomfortably tight again. As he made his way back to his chambers to ready himself for the inevitable meeting he would have to attend, he prayed to the Old Gods, the New Gods, and even the Lord of Light that he would have a few moments alone to deal with his arousal.

It seemed the Gods were either cruel or didn’t care, as Ser Davos and a man about Jon’s age were already waiting outside his door when he arrived. He waved the duo in and looked the younger man over, noting his scrubby appearance and realizing this must be the blacksmith Davos asked to retrieve.

With a small huff, Jon nodded to Davos. “Good to see you’ve survived King’s Landing.”

“Yet again. Your grace, this is Clo-”

“Name’s Gendry, Your Grace.” The young man cut in, his blue eyes shining against his soot smeared face. “I’m Robert Baratheon’s son. Bastard son.”

The admission hit Jon like a slap in the face. He’d heard a rumor that Joffrey had had all of his father’s bastards killed, but it looked as though one slipped through the cracks. He scowled, realizing Dany wasn’t likely to react well when she was introduced to him, then glanced over at Ser Davos with raised brows.

Davos sighed with a scowl of his own. “He was meant to keep that to himself.”

“Our fathers trusted each other. Why shouldn’t we?” Gendry pointed out with a grin, looking between Jon and Davos.

Jon looked him over and gave a small shrug, walking over to his dressing table and pulling on his freshly laundered gambeson. “I saw your father once at Winterfell.”

“I met yours in my shop. Is it alright if I wash up?” 

“Aye, it’s probably best you do. Washbasin is over there.” Jon pointed to the table in the corner. “You’re a lot leaner than your father.” He added, glancing at the smith as he pulled on his armored jerkin.

“And you’re a lot shorter.” 

He should have been offended by the comment, but Gendry wasn’t wrong. He chuckled and pulled on his sword belt, securing Longclaw to his hip then pulled his messy hair into a leather tie behind his head to keep it out of his face. “I grew up on stories about them.”

“All I ever knew is that they fought together, and won.” Gendry’s smile got bigger, his eyes sparkling. “Ser Davos told me where you might be headed, Your Grace, and why. Let me come with you.”

“Don’t be a fool, you’re not a soldier.” Davos cut in, his scowl growing deeper.

“No, but I’m a fighter. And he won’t be needing a smith with a sword like that.” 

“Aye, but there are lots of others who’ll need swords like this,” Jon answered, rejoining the pair by the door and waving them out. “Queen Daenerys and I may have found how to make them. If you’re half as good a smith as Ser Davos thinks you are, you’ll be more use to me here, where the dragonglass and dragons are. Even if what we found is useless, we need weapons, and lots of them, as soon as possible.”

Jon couldn’t see Gendry’s face, but he could almost feel disappointment radiating off the young man. “Alright then, if you think that’s best, I won’t refuse ya.”

“Finally, someone listens,” Davos commented, walking shoulder to shoulder with Jon as they made their way to the war room. “I hope you’ll forgive me for trying to keep who his father is from ya, Your Grace, but I thought with everything going on, the last thing you’d want to be worrying about is the Queen’s reaction to you harboring the bastard of the man who took the throne from her father.”

“It’s alright, Davos.” Jon reassured him. “But I’m glad it came out now. Gendry, do me a favor and stay close to me during this meeting. Daenerys isn’t likely to be happy with any of us when I tell her who you are, but if it comes from me, it’ll likely blow over fairly quickly. I think.”

“And why on earth would you tell her?” Davos hissed, grabbing Jon’s arm to halt them in the middle of the hallway. “I brought him here to help us because we need the help, and we’ll treat him better than the Lannisters ever will, not to be food for dragons!”

“Daenerys and I have agreed that the best way to rule together, is to have no secrets between us,” Jon explained, shrugging out of Davos’ grasp. “We’ve already begun breaking ground in that regard, I’m not going to ruin it by keeping something like this from her.”

“If it helps… I can tell her I don't want the throne.” Gendry added. “I don't know nothing about ruling, I'm more than happy swinging a hammer.” 

Davos looked between Jon and Gendry and sighed in defeat. “Don't mind me, I've done nothing but been voluntold to come with ya and give ya advice.” 

“I told her what happened to me at Castle Black, and she believes me.” Jon insisted. “She finally believes me about the white walkers. I’m not going to jeopardize that trust, Davos.”

The older man cocked his head and frowned in thought, the news obviously a surprise to him, but not something he could discuss further in front of Gendry. “Come on, then. Lord Tyrion wouldn't even tell me anything on the trip back here. We'd better hurry up before we're late and we all become the big dragon's dinner.”

The three men walked the rest of the way in silence, Jon leading the way into the war room where Daenerys, Tyrion, Varys, and Missandei were already waiting. He glanced around the room as he took his seat at the painted table, nodding to everyone in turn and finally resting on Dany. She was wearing her usual grey coat, with her three-headed dragon pin keeping a blood red sash in place and her customary chain hanging from her shoulder and crossing her body to her waist. Her hair was braided up in the complicated mass of braids she normally wore, and Jon was left dazed at how quickly she could get herself together from the simple robe and braid she was in when he left her chamber. Gone was the flush from her cheeks, but she reserved a very coy smile for him, and he found himself shifting uncomfortably in his chair and silently cursing Tyrion for calling this meeting so soon. 

“Good morning, everyone.” Tyrion greeted, nodding to Jon, Davos, and Gendry in turn. “Thank you for joining us so quickly. Before we begin, I believe introductions are in order.”

Gendry fidgeted in his seat next to Jon for a moment then cleared his throat. “My name’s Gendry, your grace. I’m a blacksmith.”

Dany raised a brow at Jon, a small smile on her lips. “I’m pleased to meet you, Gendry. Your arrival is fortuitous, as King Jon and I may have found something we could use your help with.”

“He mentioned that.” Gendry smiled. 

“Do you know who your parents were, Gendry?” Varys cut in, looking at the blacksmith curiously. 

“He’s Robert Baratheon’s son,” Jon replied before Gendry could, folding his hands together and leaning forward on the table. “His  _ bastard _ son. He’s assured me he has no intention for the throne, and would rather make weapons for our causes than for the family that tried to have him killed, simply for who his father was.”

Jon watched Dany’s mouth twitch, almost into a smile, despite the cold flash in her eyes that had been there moments before and he was sure that, despite any initial anger or animosity she might have harbored for Gendry, it wouldn’t last. He would be able to smooth things over with her in the end. That was until Varys spoke up again.

“Be that as it may, your resemblance to Robert is striking,” The eunuch stated, still looking the blacksmith over. “If word got out of who you are-”

“It won't,” Gendry spoke up, looking between Varys and Dany, his eyes wide with worry. “Really, I don’t want to rule no one. I didn’t even know who my father was until Joffrey sent the gold cloaks after me. He had every one of my half brothers and sisters slaughtered, and I managed to get away. I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful for my life, but you lot can have the throne. I only want to keep smithing for as long as you’ll let me.”

The room was eerily quiet as everyone waited for Dany to speak, Jon keeping his expression neutral so that she could decide on her own. She looked at him, held his gaze for a long moment, and then looked back at Varys. “Is this true? Joffrey Baratheon had every one of his father’s bastard children killed?”

Varys winced, but Tyrion spoke up. “Yes.” All eyes turned to the imp. “At first I thought it was Cersei who had given the order, but she admitted it wasn’t her. The only redeeming quality my sister ever had was her love for her children, and she certainly wouldn’t condone the slaughter of innocent babes over her own insecurities. Joffrey was cruel and insecure, and had he been more intelligent he would have realized that there was no proof to substantiate the claim that Robert wasn’t his father, and Robert’s illegitimate children were no threat to him at all.”

“Then I can’t say I’m sad to see him dead. No offense meant, Lord Tyrion.” Dany commented, looking back to Gendry. “Very well. I doubt King Jon would have brought you here if you were untrustworthy. Missandei, please prepare a room for our new guest, and ensure there is a proper bath and plenty of food.” 

“At once, your grace,” Missandei nodded, immediately heading toward the door of the war room. “If you would follow me, Gendry, I can show you to your room.”

Gendry looked to Jon, who caught his eye and nodded, before hastily standing, awkwardly bowing toward Dany, and fumbling as he followed Missandei away from the meeting. 

“Now, Lord Tyrion, you have the floor.” Dany shifted in her seat to look at him, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Yes. Ah. Well. Jamie, unfortunately, was not as receptive to speaking with me as I had hoped,” Tyrion admitted after taking a few large gulps of wine. “He did say he would speak to our sister and attempt to set up a meeting in order to discuss our request for a temporary truce, but I don’t have my hopes set very high.”

“I didn’t think you would have a yes or no upon your immediate return,” Dany countered with a sigh of irritation. “Is this why you called this  _ urgent _ meeting?”

“No, I called this urgent meeting to discuss a contingency plan in the event Cersei doesn’t agree to meet with us,” Tyrion replied, an eyebrow arched in question. “We also have terms of the alliance with the north to discuss and a wedding to arrange if I remember correctly. Unless you and the King in the North have  _ discussed _ this already.” 

Jon could see a faint tinge of pink on Dany’s cheeks at Tyrion’s implication, and it angered him. “Daenerys and I discussed the matter of ruling equally, and that there would be no secrets between us. The rest of what we may or may not have  _ discussed _ , my lord, is none of your business,” he nearly growled, his hands balling into fists on the tabletop to keep himself seated. It was strange, this reaction, to be so protective of Dany when he wasn’t yet her husband. Perhaps their revelations to one another had him feeling closer to her?

“You’re so much like your father when someone has touched a nerve,” Tyrion smirked, raising a full glass of wine in a toast to Jon. “So quick-tempered; a snarling wolf. It is good to see our queen will have such a fierce protector by her side in the near future.”

“How about we decide what to do if your sister won’t meet with us when we know for sure that’s what’s gonna happen?” Davos said in his gruff flea-bottom accent. “No use wasting time or energy on that when there’s so much more to discuss.”

“Aye.” Jon agreed, leaning back in his chair and forcing himself to relax. He’d been tense before walking into the room, and learning that what Tyrion had to say wasn’t as urgent as he initially implied only made him more tightly strung. He considered asking to postpone the rest of the meeting for a few hours so that he could calm himself down, but he didn’t see the point. They had to discuss terms regardless, might as well do it while they were all in the same room. 

Dany sighed again then nodded, leaving Jon to wonder if she had hoped for someone to postpone the rest of the meeting as well. Was she still as worked up over this morning as he was?

“We agreed that Queen Daenerys will supply fighting men and weapons, along with her dragons to aid in the war against the Night King and his army of the dead.” Tyrion began, glancing at Dany for confirmation. He continued after receiving a nod. “In exchange, King Jon will rally as many of his lords as possible to show the rest of the realm that our Queen has the support of the north behind her.”

“And the Vale,” Jon added.

“The Vale?” 

“Aye. Lord Baelish married Sansa’s aunt, Lysa Arryn, and is currently Lord Paramount of the Vale until Robin comes of age,” he explained, agitated that Tyrion, and by extension, Dany, had little knowledge of what was really going on within the rest of Westeros. “Baelish came to our aid in taking back Winterfell at Sansa’s request and has now allied the Vale with the north. From what he’s told me, the Vale can supply twenty to thirty thousand men for the upcoming war against the dead. Most are still garrisoned in Gulltown, with roughly two thousand currently in Winterfell.”

“That is, of course, assuming Littlefinger hasn’t lied to you about the number of men he actually has.” Varys supplied. “He thrives off of misdirection, although those numbers sound accurate if I remember the information my little birds supplied during the war of the five kings. The Vale kept itself neutral in that particular war and lost no men as a result.”  He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Your Graces, I may be able to further hinder Cersei’s ability to hold King’s Landing by limiting trade. I have many contacts in Essos that could redirect trading to Gulltown and even as far north as White Harbor, instead of the capitol. With less and less food to feed the people, the people will flee to other cities…”

“Leaving fewer resources for Cersei and fewer innocents within the city should we have to storm it with our armies,” Dany concluded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Jon, if you’re amenable to this plan, we should put it in action immediately.”

“Of course,” Jon smiled, happy that she was already conferring with him prior to putting a plan into place. “I’ll send ravens to Gulltown and White Harbor after we’re done here so that they are prepared for the increased trade.” 

The smile she flashed him sent a jolt straight to his groin, made his abdomen tighten, and he could feel the beginnings of embarrassing heat rising on his face. He needed to get these lustful feelings under control before everyone else became aware of exactly what was on his mind, because at the moment he was beginning to regret his vow of celibacy until their wedding night. He decided at that moment he either needed to find a way to respectfully find a way to stay away from Dany for a while, which he didn’t want at all, or they needed to find a way to not act like randy youngsters around everyone else. 

“Good. Now the question is, whose war do we fight first?” Tyrion said jovially. The tension in the room immediately shifted, Dany straightening up in her seat with a frown.

“What do you mean, ‘whose war do we fight first?’ The answer is entirely dependant on your sister.” Dany chastised. “If she agrees to the temporary truce, we go north and deal with the Night King. If she doesn’t, we take the throne first. Either way, there is no point in talking circles around either possibility until we know Cersei’s decision.” 

“That’s where I have to disagree,” Jon sighed, with a small frown of his own. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say, but he couldn’t let her push him around this early in their relationship, especially because they weren’t yet married. “If Cersei doesn’t agree, we have to go north regardless. The northern lords don’t know you, they don’t  _ trust _ you, simply because of what your father and brother did to my family. I can’t just call the banners south and expect them to show up.”

“You’re they’re king. If you call them to fight, they must obey.” Dany scoffed, confusion written on her face. 

Jon could only laugh. “And that’s why it’s been so difficult for the south to truly control the north. Our people may be spread out but they’re fiercely loyal to their own. They’re already worried that you’re going to kill me or seduce me into submission, what do you think their first thoughts will be when I’ve been gone three moons with little word and a call to banners?”

“If you include that I am making you king-”

“They’ll likely un-name me king in the north and shun me for being a shameful power-hungry fiend, like all bastards are supposed to be.” Jon nearly yelled, inhaling sharply through his nose to cover his surprise at finding himself standing. When had he stood up? Why was he in such a rage? He closed his eyes and breathed deeply again to center himself, focusing intently on Dany when he opened his eyes once more. “I earned their respect by taking back Winterfell.” He continued, bracing his hands on the edge of the table and pushing his weight against it, using the action to further center himself. “They aren’t likely to continue respecting me if I expect them to fight for you without at least meeting you in person. They haven’t had the luxury to get to know you like I have, and even with the promise of me at your side at the end of it all, I don’t see them leaving their homes to fight for a queen they don’t know with only a bastard’s word that you’ll make good on your promise.”

She was shaken, that much was obvious. As he spent more time with her, he had gotten better at reading the subtle changes in her queenly mask, and she hadn’t expected him to counter her as vehemently as he did, which only worried him. What would she think of this side of him? This unbridled rage that surfaced when he was pushed just a little too far? 

“You’re right.” she said softly, her expression almost sad. “Expecting them to march south without meeting me is just as foolish as expecting you to bend the knee to me upon our first meeting. It appears you have our contingency plan, Lord Tyrion. Until we have further information, this meeting is adjourned.”

“Your grace, we still should plan the wedding and-”

“King Jon and I will discuss the logistics of that in private.” she interrupted. “Leave us. Now.”

One by one, her advisors and guards filed out, Jon catching Davos’ eye and giving him a silent nod as an affirmation to leave. Once everyone was gone he turned back to find her standing, her gaze on the table until the door shut with a loud thud. 

“I’m sorr-”

“I’m sorr-”

They both started at the same time, stopping to laugh. “You first.” Jon prompted, taking a few tentative steps around the table toward her, a grin still plastered on his face. “First you say I’m right, then you’re apologizing to me… from what I understand, that isn’t often heard from a woman.”

She chuckled, glancing back down at the table. “Be careful, Jon Snow, I may rescind my statements.” She threatened, though her tone was mocking. When she looked back up at him, her face was serious, and he stopped his slow approach. “I’m sorry for not understanding why you pushed away my advances before. You told me… but, I never quite understood, I suppose. I always compared your childhood to my own. A part of me always rationalizing that you had the better of it. Essos has no true concept or hatred of bastards, so it’s been difficult for me to understand how or why people could have such hate for illegitimate children. I still don’t understand the hatred, but I believe I understand your hesitation, and why it would be inappropriate for us to have a child out of wedlock, so I won’t continue to pressure you.”

There it was- his way out. Except, now that he had it, he wasn’t so sure he wanted it. 

“You’re talking like you’re now sure you  _ can _ have children.” He pointed out, taking another few steps toward her. She wasn’t moving but she wasn’t giving him any indication that his advance was unwanted.

“I’ve recently been led to believe that I could be mistaken about my condition.” She smiled, and he was almost undone. Something about her smile and the way she looked at him, the adoration in her eyes that he knew he didn’t deserve but would gladly take, the fire flickering deep within, captivating and drawing him closer… he wanted her, more than he ever wanted anything. 

Maybe she  _ had _ seduced him. He found he didn't really care. 

He was finally right in front of her, close enough that they were almost touching. He could smell her intoxicating scent and feel the almost unnatural heat radiating from her petite form. His heart skipped a beat when she took his hands in hers, twining their fingers together. 

“I doubt we’ll have to wait long for Cersei’s reply.” She said, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she focused her gaze on his. “In a few day’s time, we’ll head north, regardless. Whether it is to just introduce me to your lords and rally them to my fight or to go on this crazy mission to retrieve a dead man, we still need to go to your home.”

“Thank you, Dany.” He breathed, bringing their hands up to his lips and kissing her knuckles. It was the simplest gesture he could think of to thank her without pushing his own limits, while still being able to breathe in more of her and faintly taste her skin once again.

“Mmmhmmm… but I haven’t told you the best part.” She teased, her hands gently squeezing his as her tongue darted out again, that action alone breaking down the last of his barriers and he felt his body betray him, his cock almost painfully hard in his trousers. 

_ Dammit, Dany, you’ve no idea what you do to me… _ he thought. Instead, he replied, “How could that get any better?” 

“I think we should marry in Winterfell, shortly after our arrival, regardless of what comes next.” She stated, releasing one of his hands to tuck a stray curl of hair behind his ear. “Don’t you think your lords would be more willing to fight for me if they saw me marry their king in their lands, under their customs? If they get used to calling me queen before I ask them to march south for me, would it be easier in their minds to fight for me?”

Jon thought through the implications of that. Yes, the northern lords were more likely to at least realize she wasn’t like her father if she honored the northern traditions, marrying in front of the Old Gods…  _ his _ gods… and much,  _ much _ , sooner than he had initially thought she intended to marry him. There was one problem though.

“You’re not worried about my surname?” 

“No.” She chuckled, her hand cupping his cheek. “Queens don’t often take the king’s surname as a manner of tradition. I don’t care about your lineage, it’s not why I’m marrying you. If it means that much to you, you can take my name, or once we have the throne, we can legitimize you as Stark. We would have the power to do so.”

“We’ll worry about it when the time comes.” he replied, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes in a strained effort to control himself. 

“What’s wrong?” Dany asked, causing him to open his eyes and frown down at her in confusion. “I can feel your heart beating its way out of your chest and you’re trembling.”

He was trembling? Yes, maybe he was. “You’ve no idea how difficult it is to be anywhere near you and not want to-” He stopped suddenly, pulling away from her just enough to break away from her grasp, but still keeping close. He wasn’t rejecting her, but he needed to have a little space to think coherently. “You do things to me with just a simple look, and I don’t know if you even realize you’re doing it,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment. “Knowing that we’ll soon share a bed, but not being able to until then… I might expire from the frustration of it all and we don’t have a red priestess to bring me back this time.” he joked, attempting to alleviate some of his own frustration within the moment. 

Dany merely smirked at him, taking one of his hands again. “How long would you say the journey is from here to Winterfell? A sennight? A fortnight? A month?”

“A month, maybe less if we have the wind on our way to White Harbor and it hasn’t snowed heavily.”

“And if... I  _ somehow _ ... were to become with child before we marry in say, two month’s time, you wouldn’t be siring a bastard, you would have a legitimate heir, and no one would question when the child was conceived.”

Jon froze, her words taking a few moments to percolate through his brain. Here he was thinking they had to wait until their wedding night to do anything, but, Jon knew that many young men and women married specifically because the woman was pregnant and they didn’t want the child to be illegitimate. He and Dany were already set to be married, well before she would ever show, even if she got pregnant tonight… 

Without thinking, he pulled her tightly against him and kissed her, one hand holding the small of her back, the other sliding to the base of her neck to keep her as close to him as he could get her. She kissed him back, her own arms circling up around his neck. He could feel her fingers combing through the curls he left loose, slowly moving up to remove the leather tie that kept his hair from his face. He allowed it, feeling his hair spring free as he backed her to the table, his hand sliding down to her bottom to help lift her onto the tabletop. She automatically opened her legs to pull him closer, moaning into his mouth as he ground his erection against her core, the sound fueling his lust for her. 

“Jon…” she muttered against his lips, her hands sliding down to his chest. “Jon.”

“Mmmm…” he grunted, gently nipping her lower lip and pushing against her again. 

She whimpered softly then leaned back slightly, biting her lower lip as she glanced down at the lower halves of their bodies still pressed against each other. “We should take this somewhere more private, so that we’re not interrupted again.” 

He sighed in defeat, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. “I would have thought your chambers to be private enough, but we were interrupted there this morning. At this point I don’t bloody well care who walks in on us.”

“How very Dothraki of you.” She chuckled. “I’ll lock the door this time, and order the guards to tell everyone we aren’t to be disturbed.”

“You’re not worried what the others will think?”   


“Are you?”

No, no he wasn’t.

“Come on then.” Jon huffed, stepping away from the table and pulling Dany with him, smiling at her giggle when she slid back to the floor and landed against him. He took her hand and stepped away far enough to let her lead the way, eagerly jogging through the hall hand in hand with her, worried that someone, somewhere, would notice them and try to grab their attention. 

He’d cut down any man or woman who kept them from their goal. Literally nothing was holding him back this time- no night’s watch vow, no self imposed vow of celibacy, no worry that she didn’t also want him or was only going to perform her “wifely duties” when called for. They had time to kill before making any new decisions, and there was no way he would allow anyone to draw his attention away from her now. 

Miraculously they made it to her room unaccosted, dropping hands as they approached the guards outside her room and slipping into their more composed roles. They stopped a foot away from the two Unsullied, the men snapping to attention, right fists banging against their chests in a salute. 

Dany folded her hands in front of her and held her chin high. “Dovaogēdy. Gaomagon daor jenigon nyke ēva vestran sīr. Shifang?” She said, the strange and beautiful words meaningless to Jon, but her guards understood.

“Kessa, ñuha dāria.” They grunted out in unison, returning to their resting pose, eyes never leaving their forward facing position. 

Dany glanced back to Jon and nodded, stepped forward into her room, waited for Jon to enter, then closed and locked the door. 

“What did you tell them?” Jon asked, immediately unbuckling the straps of his jerken beneath his arms and pulling the bulky garment over his head. 

“That I am not to be disturbed under any condition.” She smirked, removing her dragon brooch and allowing her sash and chain to fall inelegantly to the floor. 

“And what if Tyrion calls another ‘urgent meeting’? Will they disturb us then?” He asked, his smile matching hers as he similarly tossed his jerkin and gambeson aside. 

“No.” Dany replied, pulling off her suede boots and leaving them on the floor as she began stalking toward him.

Jon similarly pulled off his boots and kicked them off to the side, a growl forming low in his throat when she was close enough to him to grab her. She squeaked at the sudden movement, but smiled against his lips as he bent down to kiss her, a throaty moan of her own escaping when he grabbed her hips and pressed her against him. He loved every little sound she made, and he planned to hear many more from her that day. 

“How does this come off?” He muttered between kisses, pulling at her coat. 

She gave him a playful nip and took a half step back, unhooking the flap across her chest that covered the laces to her coat, then tugged at the laces themselves, loosening up the form fitting garment before shrugging it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. 

Jon felt his heart stop for a moment as the coat dropped, revealing that she wore nothing underneath. She was all soft curves and smooth skin, and he couldn’t help thinking he’d died all over again.

“Your turn.” She prompted before he could come to his senses, reaching for the hem of his tunic and pulling it up. 

He helped her pull it over his head and let her toss it aside, flinching slightly when her fingers ghosted over his half healed scars, then groaned as she knelt down and kissed them, repeating her actions from earlier that morning, her fingers now gripping the waistband of his trousers and inching them down his waist.

He watched through hooded eyes as his cock sprang free from his trousers, bobbing at her eye level. There was something strangely obscene about her kneeling before him, half naked, his cock in her face. He enjoyed it, this shift in power, but it didn't feel quite right, not yet, and it pulled him from his trance. He stepped out of his trousers and pulled her back to her feet, crushing her against him as they kissed, his hands caressing every inch of her bare back, a groan escaping his throat at the feel of her breasts against his chest and his cock against her belly. 

She urged him backwards toward the bed, his hands now palming her breasts, thumbs rubbing circles on the rapidly stiffening peaks of her nipples. She sighed and pulled away long enough to wriggle out of her leggings, finally bearing herself completely to him. 

“Dany…” Jon whispered in adoration of this goddess before him, his gaze watching his fingers trail down her chest and over her perfect breasts, down the flat plane of her belly, around the soft curve of her hips, down to tease the tufts of silver hairs above her cunt. He listened closely to her reactions, every soft sigh and intake of breath, every little whimper he managed to pull from her he committed to memory. 

“Jon,”

He looked back up to her eyes, a small part of him amazed she was watching him, that beautiful smirk adorning her lips. She took his hand and pulled him onto the bed with her, situating herself on her back beneath him, her legs opening up to cradle his hips. Her hands slid around his waist and up his back when he leaned down to kiss her lips and neck. Her hips arched against him, causing him to groan into her mouth as his cock slid against her cunt, the action coating him in her wetness.

His one last shred of uncertainty made him pull away from the kiss, his eyes frantically searching hers for any sign that she didn’t want this, despite her words and her body clearly telling him she did. He wanted to be beyond positive that she wasn’t playing him the fool, that she wouldn’t hate him after, that he was still bloody  _ awake _ and not in his bed dreaming about her yet again. 

Her gaze was glassy and half-lidded, her lips puffy and pink from his kisses and nips, her carefully braided hair beginning to come loose from her braids and fan out on the pillow beneath her head, Every time he looked at her, she was more beautiful, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Jon bent down and kissed her again as his hips arched into hers, his lips following the line of her jaw when she gasped, a moan of his own muffled against her neck. 

The pleasure was beyond anything he had ever experienced, even his first time so long ago. Her body accepted him so easily, he hadn’t needed to even touch her sex to have her wet and ready for him. He thrust again, and again, and again, time losing all meaning as he lost himself within her, his body taking over and mind going blank save for her. His lover, his Daenerys, his wife in all but name, his  _ queen. _

“Oh Jon… I…” she cried out, her body shuddering beneath him, her velvety walls beginning to flutter around him as he continued to thrust. 

“Yes, Dany....” he growled in response, focusing on thrusting faster, harder, his abdomen tightening as he grew closer, chasing his own release. 

Suddenly her whole body arched up into his, her walls clamping down on him and she cried out incoherently, her nails digging into his back almost painfully, and he knew he too could let go. He followed her into sweet bliss soon after, thrusting deep as he came within her, silently thanking whatever gods existed that they brought him to Daenerys Targaryen.

~~~~~~~~~

Several hours and several sessions of lovemaking later, Jon emerged from her chambers, tasked with finding a servant to draw them a bath and bring them food and wine. He would have protested harder, but Dany had rationalized that he looked much less ravaged than she did, to which he could cheekily agree. After their first go, he’d helped her remove her braids and brush out all the tangles he’d caused, which led to him kissing and lovingly biting bits of her neck as he sat behind her with the brush. After their latest round, her chin and cheeks were very pink and irritated from his beard. 

“I have a balm that will soothe the redness, but I’ll have to hide the bruises on my neck.” She’d pouted, her eyes sparkling in a way that suggested she didn’t really care. 

So Jon re-dressed, well aware of her lusty gaze on him as he pulled each garment on, and he gave her a quick kiss before heading out on his quest. He didn’t have to venture far to run into Missandei, who he knew could help him regardless. 

“Your Grace,” she greeted him, the knowing smile on her lips quickly overshadowed by the worry in her eyes. “I am glad to have found you before anyone else has. I’ve come to tell you and Queen Daenerys urgent news.”

“It’s always urgent, isn’t it.” It was a statement of defeat.  _ There goes our bath and any hope of a proper meal anytime soon. _

“I suppose any news meant for kings and queens to hear is urgent.” Missandei quipped. Jon was beginning to realize why the woman was Dany’s closest friend and confidant. “Lord Varys has a scroll sent here for you. It bears the seal of house Stark, brought by a Raven from Winterfell. Also, there is a single Lannister ship approaching. We must prepare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY they get some alone time! Also, what the what?! Why is a Lannister ship on it's way to Dragonstone? Why is it coming alone? Are there more? Find out next time! ;-)
> 
> LASTLY- I know I pulled banter directly from the show between Gendry and Jon. It was too good NOT to include it!
> 
>  
> 
> Valyrian Translations:  
> “Dovaogēdy. Gaomagon daor jenigon nyke ēva vestran sīr. Shifang?” - Unsullied, I am not to be disturbed under any condition. Understand?
> 
> “Kessa, ñuha dāria.” - Yes, my queen.


	5. Love Comes In At The Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some post-coitus fluff leads Daenerys to a revelation. Missandei reports on a translated portion of the journal. Dany and Jon discover the identity of the messenger from the Lannister ship. *MATURE CONTENT AHEAD*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to start off by apologizing for the agonizingly long wait for this chapter. You all have no idea how bad I feel for the delay. My intention was to get it posted before Christmas, but December was a ridiculously busy month for me and the family, and January has been fraught with health issues and an inconsolable teething baby leading to one dead on her feet mama and little to no time and energy to write. Long story short, things are finally looking up in the health/teething department and I can look forward to more time to write! Wooo! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

I'd like to give a HUGE shoutout to my lovely betas, [Daenerys1417](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daenerys1417/pseuds/Daenerys1417) and [TheSandStorms](https://www.wattpad.com/user/TheSandStorms), for catching my spelling and grammatical mistakes, as well as give credit to [JonerysTargaryens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonerysTargaryens/pseuds/JonerysTargaryens) for the two Jon/Dany intimate photo edits in this chapter. The last edited photo with Jon and Dany standing on the beach was made by yours truly. Make sure you check out all three ladies profiles (TheSandStorms is only on Wattpad, if you click her name it'll take you to her profile there) and read their fanfics. You can also find all four of us on Instagram! [@smolengineer](https://www.instagram.com/smolengineer/)   [@Daenerys1417](https://www.instagram.com/daenerys1417/)   [@got_fire_and_blood_8](https://www.instagram.com/got_fire_and_blood_8/)    [@jonerystargaryens](https://www.instagram.com/jonerystargaryens/). Lastly, I've joined Wattpad under the same pseudonym, [smolengineer](https://www.wattpad.com/user/Smolengineer). I'm not sure who all of you use that platform to read and/or write, but I'm now on there as well :)

 

 

**DAENERYS**

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/45943912185/in/dateposted-public/)

 

“I’ve ruined your hair.” 

Dany chuckled breathlessly at Jon’s comment, looking up at him as they both caught their breath after their bout of lovemaking. She had just experienced a mind-blowing amount of pleasure, more pleasure than she had ever experienced in bed, and he was more worried about having mussed up her hair.

“I can put it up again. I don’t mind.” She reassured him before pulling him down gently to kiss her again. Their lips moved across each other lazily, her tongue darting out to taste his as his scent filled her nostrils again. She loved his scent, all man and leather, and pine and petrichor, a combination that was unique to him, one she knew she now smelled of. Eventually she would call the castle servants to fetch a bath for them, but for now, she was content to be surrounded by the musky smell of their carnal efforts.

Jon soon broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as he sighed deeply, a smile breaking out on his face. “I mind. Especially since I can fix it.”

“You can braid hair?” Dany asked as Jon rolled off of her. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him slide off the bed and mosey to her vanity, her eyes lingering on his perfectly sculpted buttocks and muscular back. She blushed when he turned and caught her ogling, her jade comb and boar hair brush in hand.

“Like what you see, your Grace?” Jon smirked, obviously comfortable in his nakedness in front of her. She rolled onto her belly and hid her face in the pillows in embarrassment, only peeking out when she felt a dip on the bed next to her. “No need to be embarrassed, Dany. I quite like what I see, too,” he said, his free hand sliding up her thigh to cup and gently squeeze her bottom.

“Yes. I'm quite taken with your physical beauty. It's one of the few things that kept me from locking you in the dungeons that first day here.” She teased, pushing herself up into a seated position and holding out her hand for her brush and comb. “Thank you for retrieving those.”

“Turn around. I'll do it.” Jon insisted.

Dany pursed her lips, but obeyed, enjoying the slide of his legs around hers as he positioned himself behind her. She sighed as she felt his fingers working through her tresses, first to pull out the many pins Missandei had put into place that morning to keep the mass of braids piled atop her head, and then the ties at the end of each braid. Her skin pricked in gooseflesh as he delicately unwound each braid and gently combed through the tangles, his fingers grazing against her bare back as he worked, and switching to the brush once each tangle had been worked through with the comb.

“You never answered my question,” Dany muttered, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt him piecing out her hair into sections to be braided. “How does a king know how to braid a woman’s hair?”

“I wasn’t always a king,” Jon chuckled, his deep voice sending shivers up her spine.

“So you tended all the highborn ladies at Winterfell then?” Dany teased back, a smile dancing along her lips at Jon’s laugh in response.

“My sister, Arya, was the least ladylike highborn girl you could ever meet.” He explained, working on the next braid. “I would often re-braid her hair to help keep the scoldings she got from Septa Mordane and Lady Catelyn to a minimum. She was always getting in trouble for trying to train with a bow and doing all the other things us boys were doing. Gods know Lady Catelyn could be heard screaming every day about how Arya had muddied up yet another dress. The least I could do was help keep her hair looking nice.”

Dany’s heart broke at the wistfulness in his voice, knowing that this girl he spoke of was probably long dead- no one having seen or heard from her since the death of their father. Jon had often spoken of her during their suppers, and Dany knew the pair had been close.

“That is the sweetest thing I can think a brother could do for his sister,” Dany commented, lamenting that while Viserys had been kind to her at a young age, she had very few happy memories of him before he became cruel.

She felt Jon shift behind her, then his lips on her shoulder. “You brother never did anything like that for you?” He murmured against her skin as his hands slid around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/46008008895/in/dateposted-public/)

 

“No,” she could only sigh in response, tilting her head to the side to offer her neck to him. He latched on immediately, alternating between mildly painful nips with his teeth that he immediately soothed with his tongue and tender kisses. His hands wandered along her waist, casually drifting up to her breasts, gently teasing and caressing her, clouding her mind and filling her thoughts once more with him… only him.

She shivered under his gentle touch, her back arching, her hips pushing back toward him, his half erect cock brushing against her bottom and settling quite nicely within the cleft of her plump cheeks. Jon’s hands wandered lower, grazing her thighs, bringing on the welcome tingle in her cunt that was fueled by her desire for him.

“That’s a shame,” Jon remarked, slowing his tender assault on her body. “I can’t erase the past, but I can promise that I’ll do everything I can to make the future a happier one for you- to do all the little things, like braid your hair, and…. any number of things I can’t think of while you’re naked and in my arms.”

Dany’s throat tightened slightly at the thought of his vow, and then she chuckled softly as he trailed off, knowing how difficult it was to think very far past the moment they were in. “How did I ever deserve a man such as you, Jon Snow?” She asked, turning slightly to capture his lips in a kiss.

“I’ve thought the same thing since you asked me to marry you.” He answered, kissing his way up the line of her jaw, sending little shivers through her once again. “Will you indulge me in a little fantasy of mine?” Jon purred, his voice low and lips tickling the shell of her ear as he spoke. Dany quickly nodded, eager to give him anything he desired. “Hmmm… I want you to show me how to please you. How does my queen touch herself when she’s all alone?” He paused to place a kiss on her neck, just below her ear. “Does she think of me touching her?” He kissed her again, lower this time. “Tasting her?” Another kiss. “ _Fucking_ her...”

He bit down on her shoulder, causing her to gasp in surprise and moan in pleasure as he kissed her again, one hand fondling her breast, his fingers gently pinching and rolling her erect nipple as the other probed her already slick folds.

“I’m not sure that I need to show you.” She groaned, leaning her head back against his shoulder, her own hands laying atop his as he worked her.

“Humor me,” he insisted, his hands suddenly halting his ministrations and sliding to her hips.

Dany groaned in protest, attempting to pull his hands back to their previous positions, and sighing when he steadfastly refused. She leaned back against him, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent to fortify herself. If she’d been alone, it would have been easy for her to reach down and touch herself until she came. But now, with him watching, it seemed lewd and somewhat embarrassing, and she hesitated briefly before giving in. She wanted to please him, and if this was what he wanted, she would give it to him.

“I’ll do this on one condition,” she replied, nudging her bottom against his cock and smiling at the low growl she received in response.

“What’s that?”

“You show me the same courtesy later on.”

“As my queen commands,” he whispered into her neck then suckled on her pulse, his fingers digging into her hips when she arched her hips against him again in response.

Emboldened by the thought of him reciprocating, Dany immediately slipped one hand to her cunt, two fingers easily thrusting into herself as the other hand moved to massage her clit. She had used this combination many, many times since Jon stormed into her life and refused to back down from her, and while she’d previously felt somewhat guilty at the thought of using her memories of their innocent interactions in such a lascivious way, hearing him groan and sigh and growl along with her as she shuddered and pressed harder into him made her forget that guilt altogether.

“Jon…” Dany gasped out in surprise as the impending wave of an orgasm suddenly crested and crashed over her much, _much_ sooner than she’d anticipated.

“Yes…” Jon hissed, pulling her hands away and changed their positions so quickly that Dany had barely any time to come down from her climax before he was above her, his cock stroking inside her, extending the pleasure and making her see stars. Soon after, his thrusting became erratic, and Dany held him tightly against her, her nails digging into his back and sending him over the edge, a litany of curses flooding into her neck, his cock pulsing inside her.

Then he slumped against her, breathing heavily, his body a heavy but comforting, if not a bit sweaty, weight.

“Seven hells…” he finally groaned and rolled off of her onto his back, scooping her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t last longer.”

Dany laughed and snuggled up against him. “Do you hear me complaining? I’m quite enjoying myself, Jon.”  She turned her head and placed a kiss on the scar above his heart.

“That’s good to hear,” he sighed, his fingers lazily trailing up and down her arm.

“I do have another request.”

“Oh?”

“Next time, _I’m_ on top.”

____________________________________________________

 

_Love comes in at the eyes._

Doreah’s words echoed in her head as Jon left her chambers to find food and a bath. Dany sent him on the errand to have some time to calm herself. She could have easily just called her guard to do the job, but when she realized she _loved_ the King in the North, it rattled her to her core.

The revelation didn’t stop her from ogling him as he dressed, and missing him the second he was out the door.

It had come to her the third time they’d made love. She was riding him, enjoying the view of him sprawled out beneath her, his raven colored curls fanned out against the steel grey of her pillows. Pillows the same color as his eyes that were fixated on her bouncing breasts until he finally sat up to kiss her. When he pulled away from the kiss to look at her, it hit her. She was in love with him, and it was quite possible that _he_ loved _her_ as well.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/46806452572/in/dateposted-public/)

 

It was the _why_ that scared her the most.

She couldn’t deny the inexplicable attraction she had to him since the moment he walked into her throne room. His face, and voice, and vehement unwillingness to bend for his people frustrated her to no end and yet made her want him all the more. He was devastatingly handsome, with a voice that made her knees weak and made the irrational side of her brain mourn the thought of locking him away in a cell. If she imprisoned him and held him hostage for the North’s submission, she’d have to see his beautiful face marred with hatred for her. His blatant refusal to bend was intriguing as much as it was irritating. It was obvious he cared about his people- he didn’t seem to be clinging to the title of king because he enjoyed the power, he genuinely believed his people would never accept her as their queen, and as much as she hated to admit it to herself, Tyrion had come up with a seemingly perfect plan to get the north back into the seven kingdoms.  
  
Then there was the way she’d slowly been able to break down some of the barriers he’d undoubtedly set up over the course of his life, and she’d begun to see a much different side of him- there was Jon Snow, King in the North, a leader and hero to many… and then there was just Jon, a quite humorous and caring man. She doubted there were many who got to see him in his relaxed state and she treasured the fact that she could be counted among them.

His two sides paralleled her own. To most, she was Daenerys Stormborn, the last Dragon, the rightful queen. Among those who followed her, only Tyrion, Jorah, and Missandei truly saw the woman beneath all the titles of leadership she bore.

Somehow, despite offering herself to Jon to secure their political alliance, she was falling for the man, and she couldn’t be sure if these rapidly developing feelings were a good thing or if they would be a bane as they fought side by side.

 _I cannot afford to love him… yet. If he falls in battle protecting me… I cannot allow myself the heartbreak that would follow._ She tried to convince herself as she made her way to her washbasin to clean the sticky mess they’d made between her thighs. When she was done, she pulled on a robe and went to check on the bruises she knew had to be littering her throat. Dany frowned when she saw them, silently hoping that they were all low enough to be covered by the collars of her various coats and dresses, then laughed at how irritated she was. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't truly care. They were going to tell their councils about their plan to wed as soon as possible, what did it matter if they advertised to the world that they'd become enamored with each other?

As she waited for her lover to return, she admired the simple braids Jon had put into her hair, leaving most of it to flow down her back, while still keeping the bits around her face in check. They seemed to have fared much better than the intricate braids she normally wore, and she silently vowed she would have Jon style her hair more often.

Her chamber door opened much sooner than she’d expected, and she turned to greet Jon, her smile at his return falling at the worried expression on his face, as well as Missandei’s presence behind him.

“I’m sorry, Daenerys,” he offered, glancing back at Missandei. “There’s a Lannister ship approaching. I need to find Ser Davos, and I can assemble everyone else while you get ready if you’d like.”

“Very well,” she replied, trying and failing to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in her voice. She briefly considered finding Drogon and burning the ship on the water, then moving to kill Cersei in the Red Keep for daring to interrupt her day with Jon, but she reigned it in. “I shall meet you on shore within the hour to greet our unexpected guests. Perhaps while you speak with Ser Davos, you can discuss having your belongings brought to this chamber?” She added with a coy smile.

“Aye. I think I shall,” he grinned, closing the distance between them and giving her a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

Missandei shut the door behind him, grinning at Daenerys as she eyed the many love bites he’d left behind. “From the state of your throat, am I correct in assuming Jon Snow is as wild as the wolves of the Stark sigil?” She teased, ushering her queen to sit so that she could add to the braids Jon had put in her hair.

“He most certainly is.” Daenerys offered, watching her advisor and closest friend work.

“Did his Grace braid your hair?” Missandei asked, gathering the hair she'd just styled to tie at the base of her neck.

Dany grinned, catching her friend's gaze in the mirror. “Yes,” she confirmed, her cheeks warming. “Our soon to be king is full of surprises it seems.”

“He did a wonderful job,” Missandei complimented, wrapping a final braid around the leather tie that bound the style together, effectively hiding it. “Perhaps I can teach him some more complicated styles so that you both may have more time alone together. That is, if you'd like that?”

Daenerys could only smile sheepishly and nod, turning her head to admire the style.

“He seems utterly smitten with you.”

“Yes. I think, perhaps, I may be as well.”

Missandei stepped back, indicating that she was done. “Well, that is very good, considering you’ve asked him to marry you. You’re happy? Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Then I am happy for you,” Missandei replied, going to the armoire and looking through the dresses and coats, pulling out one similar to the dark grey outfit she’d worn in the morning, which was currently lying on the floor in a pile, surely now full of wrinkles and dust.

Dany stood and dropped her robe, slipping on smallclothes and a linen tunic before donning the heavy coat and trousers. Once she was fully dressed, Missandei eyed her appearance and smirked, briefly turning away to pull a scarf from the chest of drawers nearby, the color matching the blood red sash attached to her shoulder by her dragon pin.

“I suggest you wear this, your Grace, I don’t believe it would be wise to announce to the Lannister envoy that you’ve recently bedded the King in the North,” her friend pointed out handing the scarf over to Dany. “There are a few marks at the collar line of your coat.”

Dany sighed and accepted the red silk square, returning to the mirror so that she could tie the scarf around her neck. She tucked it into the collar of her coat in a manner that hid the love bites Jon had left, but still looked as though it were intentionally part of the outfit.

“There,” she said, smiling at her own handiwork. “Shall we go?”

The women walked side by side through the castle, two Dothraki guards falling into step behind them.

“Your Grace, I’ve begun translating some of the journal you and his Grace found, specifically the page you had earmarked.” Missandei reported as they walked. Dany glanced at her, raising her eyebrows as a silent affirmation for her to continue. “The page states a process to create what is being called ‘dragonsteel’, aptly named for the use of dragon fire and dragon glass.”

“That is what I gathered, from the small bit I was able to read.”

“There is a part of the process that is very… disturbing, your Grace.”

“How so?” Dany asked, her curiosity getting the better of her despite the apprehension in Missandei’s voice.

“I do not know much about the forging of weapons,” her advisor admitted as they crossed the threshold of the castle’s front doors and walked along the long staircase to the beach. “So I consulted with the blacksmith Ser Davos brought back with him. He tells me that the final step in forging anything in metal is to harden it by heating it until it is so hot that it glows, and then quickly cooling it by submerging it in oil.” Missandei paused, slowing her steps.

Dany stopped and placed a hand on her friend’s arm, startling the other woman. “Go on. This is fascinating, although I am unsure how submerging a sword in oil could be disturbing.”

Missandei grimaced, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she continued. “The dragon steel requires blood in place of the oil.”

“Blood?” Dany asked, her expression falling as Missandei nodded.

“So far the book has not detailed specifically _where_ the blood should come from, but I would guess many of the slaves of old Valyria were sacrificed for this purpose.”

“Please… continue your translation.” Dany urged, giving her friend’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Hopefully something comes up in a later passage that notes the blood isn’t an actual requirement for the proces. Jon and I would like to attempt to use the instructions to create more Valyrian steel, but I despise the idea of what we would need to do to acquire enough blood to do so.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/33038054698/in/dateposted-public/)

 

They continued walking the rest of the way in silence, and Dany pondered the information Missandei had just revealed. It was probable that her ancestors _did_ keep a host of slaves around simply to sacrifice for the purpose of making ‘Dragon Steel’, and the thought made her cringe. Hopefully, hidden within the pages of the journal, they could find a way around that particular requirement, because as much as she longed to help produce the highly prized metal, she refused to waste life for such a thing.

As they took the final turn in the long winding staircase and began to descend to the beach, Dany spotted a lone ship off the coast bearing red sails, a gold Lannister lion painted on the fabric; men moving about the deck and setting anchor as they prepared a rowboat for the shore party. She frowned, a knot forming in her belly. What was Cersei playing at? Couldn’t she have just sent a raven with her acceptance or refusal to meet?

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/33046983278/in/dateposted-public/)

 

“Daenerys? What’s wrong?”

Jon’s deep northern voice turned her frown into a smile, and pulled her gaze from the Lannister ship to him looking up at her from the base of the staircase. He looked imposing in his full leather armor and bulky cloak, the wolf pelt mantle making him appear much larger than he actually was.  

Behind him stood Ser Davos, Ser Jorah, Tyrion, and Varys, along with a very large contingent of her Dothraki guard. Qhono stood alongside Aggo and Kovarro at the edge of the beach, careful not to stand so close to the water that the breaking waves could get them wet, but close enough to be the very first thing the incoming party would see upon landing.

“Nothing’s wrong, Jon.” She replied, taking her place beside him and resisting the urge to take his hand. “Missandei has delivered some… intriguing… news regarding the journal we found. Once all of this is dealt with, we can discuss it.”

“I have news of my own to discuss with you privately,” he said softly, his tone somber.  

Dany gave him a nod, resisting the urge to press him further in order to sate her curiosity and then looked out to their combined council. “Tyrion, do you have any idea why your sister would have sent a messenger with her reply, as opposed to a simple raven? And why she would only send one ship, instead of her entire armada?”

“No, your Grace,” Tyrion answered, his eyes fixated on the ship. “I’ve been trying to figure that out since Missandei first announced it.”

“Begging your pardon, your Graces, but is it exactly the wisest move for the both of you to be out here to greet this guest?” Davos spoke up, a scowl on his face as he watched the rowboat being lowered into the water. “Who knows what Cersei has planned for us all?”

Dany closed her eyes briefly, calling to her children. They were close by, already curious about the ship, but now she asked them to fly above the vessel and keep a close watch on those coming ashore. Drogon swooped down close to the beach, the tips of his wings skimming through the water as he made a beeline for the ship, turning up at the last moment and rocking the two people aboard the rowboat, almost tipping it over.

“I doubt they’ll try anything now, Ser Davos.” she replied as she opened her eyes, a small smirk on her face. “At any rate, I refuse to give any Lannister apart from Tyrion a view of the inside of Dragonstone. They go no further than this beach. I will hear what they have to say and then they will be turned around to go back to King’s Landing where they belong.”

Davos looked over to Jon for confirmation, his eyebrow raised skeptically.

“They’re sending two people, Davos.” Jon pointed out. “I think between myself, Ser Jorah, and the half dozen guards we’ve brought down we could handle two people. And that’s before we count the dragons.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Tyrion suddenly exclaimed, his gaze still fixated on the ship. “Why would she be so stupid as to send him!”

Dany frowned at her Hand and looked out at the rowboat again, studying its occupants. One was a man with dark hair and dark clothing- he could have been anyone really, but there was something familiar about him that Dany couldn’t quite put her finger on. The other man decked out in Lannister armor, his hair as gold as his right hand, made her blood boil. It was the same man that tried to run her through with a spear on the Blackwater Rush. The same man that had killed her father.

_Jaime Lannister!_

“Give me one good reason not to unleash Drogon upon them this very moment!” She growled, her hands curling into fists in an effort to control her rage. Unfortunately, Drogon could feel his mother’s ire and he let out an ear-splitting roar as he began circling lower, preparing to attack should the command be given.

“It’s a test.” Jon said, his voice low as he took a step closer to her and placed a comforting hand on her lower back. “Cersei wants you to lash out, so she sent _him_ , knowing he is probably someone you would want to kill on sight. I have as many reasons as you to cut him down the moment he steps on this beach. Let’s at least hear what he has to say before deciding anything else.”

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/39948610973/in/dateposted-public/)

 

If it were anyone else suggesting they hold off killing Jaime Lannister, Dany would have likely had them line up next to the man before uttering _Dracarys_. Jon, on the other hand, had a calming effect on her temper and allowed her to really listen to what he was saying.

_A test, hm?_

“Fine. We’ll listen to him. But I’m not promising we won’t send Cersei his charred armor in reply.”

A short while later, Qhono, Kovarro, and Aggo were helping Jaime and his companion pull the rowboat ashore, the two newcomers striding confidently along the beach, despite the sidelong glances they gave to the Dothraki guards. The pair stopped a few yards from Dany and Jon, glancing around at everyone present.

Missandei stepped forward, her hands folded in front of her, back straight and head held high. “Welcome to Dragonstone, my lords. You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen, first of her name, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, The Mother of Dragons, The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains, and Jon Snow, The King in the North. Please relinquish your weapons. They shall be returned to you upon your departure.”

Jaime frowned as his companion outright laughed. Dany could only fight the urge to scowl and set them aflame, but managed to keep a mask of indifference on her features as her bloodriders stepped toward them, readying their arakhs to attack. “Nakho.” Dany ordered, stopping her men.

When the newcomers realized the request was actually an order, they reluctantly unsheathed their swords and offered them to Qhono and Aggo, who roughly pulled the weapons away from their owners. After they were unarmed, they took a few steps forward.

“Well, I don’t suppose I need to announce who I am.” Jaime said, his frown deepening as he looked at the number of armed men surrounding him. He then gestured back to his companion. “This is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. Tyrion and Varys know him well but-”

“Why are you here?” Tyrion cut in, taking a few steps forward. “The last time we spoke, you agreed to speak to our sister and-"

“I did,” Jaime replied, likewise cutting his brother off. “And she refuses to meet.”

 

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145561958@N07/31972324037/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dothraki Translation: Nakho- Stop
> 
> *I decided to put the mood board at the end of the chapter so that the images didn't spoil the events of the chapter. Is that okay? Please comment and let me know which you prefer- the mood board before or after the chapter?
> 
> Also, as much as I love seeing all the photos I've chosen for this chapter spread throughout the chapter itself... it's fraking tedious as hell to do it here on Ao3. Moving forward, I'll only add the photos in the text on my Wattpad and Instagram slides. I'll be posting to all 3 sites simultaneously, but on here it will be all text plus the moodboards. <3


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